When two strangers re-meet
by TailedKitsune
Summary: Off the bat, a little OOC. A darkness lurking, playing with the countries since the dawn of time, befalls on a Dane and affects an American. See as the two struggle in the aftermath and befriend each other while strange yet familiar apparitions continue to bring them together. Some yucky parts. Friends, romantic feelings developing. Part one of a trilogy.
1. 1625: The Perfect Specimen

**_1625_**

The battlefield was a wreck. It was decorated with the dead corpses of Danes and Spaniards. They were already reeking with flies depositing their maggots in their bloody crevices and black crows, feasting on their open wounds. It's a beautiful scene indeed.

I fancied Antonio. _Yes. _He was very broad in built with skin so warm, hair so vibrant, eyes that bested even the purest of emeralds. But there was something I really like about the man before. Maybe I am drawn to his blonde hair or his fair skin or his taller stature or his broader body that's showing through his tattered and shredded uniform. It made this Spaniard's body looks weak in comparison.

_Ooh_, but those eyes. _Strong. Hard_. **_Yet._** There was passion, so much of it. I really like that. I like that very much. And then his face! I've seen a lot of men from the North and I haven't seen anyone that even comes close to him. All have them had huge noses, depressing eyes and weird teeth but he wasn't anything like that, he was perfect besides the freckles.

I watched through my puppet's eyes, tainting the green gems with my sickening violets and blacks. As long as that piece of broken quartz is stuck on this stupid Spaniard's neck I will not have to go house searching again. But I am interested in this exotic house from the North.

I inched my puppet's body, trying so hard to resist and warn of his friend to go away. But it's futile. It has been decades or so. He's been twitching ever since, trying to fight me from playing my games. _But I'll have none of that. _My fluids ran through his popped veins—all of them. I forced him to smile as wickedly as he could when—

The man named Matthias tried to push himself up as best as he could. He crouched, arm wrapped around his gut and other hand gripping on his halberd to support his weight.

"A-ayúdame, mi amigo…" His pale mouth spoke fluently. _I love a cultured man_."Usted tiene que parar." He successfully pulled himself up, towering _us_. _I love a tall man._

"…Antonio, we don't have t-to do this." He moved closer placing his huge hand on the shorter man's shoulder. _I feel hot._

"I know this isn't y-" he gasped and breathed shakily, falling down to his knees as we twisted our dagger deep to his chest. I made sure to give it a slight tug.

_That's for making me blush._

"Parar." An old voice got the attention of the demonic green-eyed man. "I think that is enough, Spain."

I made Antonio move back obediently, twitching like he had mange. His eyes were nothing but vacant dinner plates and I already have one in mind. _A little obedience for the man who gave me this body. _His eyes flashed possessively as if craving for something. _Of course it's the strapping man in front of us._ I whispered tenderly to his king's ear. The old man eyes went wide in surprise, maybe in slight gusto even.

"Yo lo quiero…" the grin on my face as I pointed the bloody finger at the Dane who was now standing strong once again in spite of the serious stab.

_I cannot wait to have you._

"Si eso significa detener esta locura ... lo hare" Denmark answered bravely before pulling out the bloody dagger.

_Seriously, I have to have you._

I hid a small knife behind us. I made sure to lattice it with my poisonous essence. Not enough to kill him but enough to make him weak—he has destroyed many buildings with his bare hands, I had to be careful—but at the same time keep his body in its gorgeous condition for the long ride I have planned for him.

"Oh…no-no, my smart friend. The whole reason you've been sent here was because you're already mine." The Spanish devil moved closer, caressing the taller man's cheek sensually.

"Hv-hvad?" Matthias growled when we lodged poisoned knives in his sides. He fell to the ground weakly, feeling the world go black. I can see it, the slow emptying of consciousness and the gradual spread of my poison along his veins, crawling like black worms casually eating out the remains of his strength.

I smirked, turning my back to face what remains of the pathetic platoon of soldiers. "Make sure you _drag _him along. Lock him up the dungeon. I have many things I wish to do to such a splendid specimen."

* * *

I always liked dark places. The only problem is that in a body like Antonio's I would need light to see. With a torch in hand, I trekked down the flight of cold stairs going to the dungeon that had been holding something precious to me for the last six months.

Matthias had been given the standard torture in the hands of the most qualified people for the job. There were rounds of punches and kicks, whips, hot metal, scalding water, drowning, dagger throwing, disappearing swords, and being force fed some very horrid things.

_Third floor._

For my energy to survive and keep his body in working order, he had to be had raw meat and bones. Remarkably, he had the teeth to grind bone.

_Second floor._

On the thirds week of torture, I decided to further combine his regimen with sexual degradation. He was forced to take a scabbard in him. And I had made preparations to stick in three men just to see if I can draw some blood out of him. _Of course, I was successful. _But to make things more complicated, I wanted to make him love it.

_Last one. _

The stairs were covered in frozen crystals, shining beautifully in a pale bluish-purple. Crusts of translucent ice painted the walls and each step made it spread more and the crystals sharper and deadlier. I am obviously unwelcomed.

_Anyway, _the pleasure part is what frustrates me. I have made numerous attempts, slipping the strongest aphrodisiacs in his feeds, hire the best men, fish for his prostrate, but _no. _Nothing has happened and what is worst is that he has learned to fake his hardness—_by the way he is so huge, I haven't seen anything like him since Rome_—and he has now developed a knack to orgasm only when he needed to which was when my pathetic henchmen shouted _'COME FOR US BITCH! WHORE!' _and some more pathetic names.

_Finally in the dungeon._

The basement was covered in magical ice—glowing blue and white. It started under the naked Dane. It extended out, bursting like a star made of beautiful crystal. The rays went across the room, going up the walls and connecting at the middle of the ceiling. Collections, clumps of ice quartzes and spiring crystals started to crawl the paths, intensifying the heavenly glow that was tinted just a little bit of orangey white and bluish purple against its dominant white-blue. The rest of the cellar was then covered with thin sheets of blue, white cracks, swirls, and frosts in them, expanding between the thick glowing lines of crystalline protrusions.

_And his skin. _

His skin started to glow cold, pure, bright white before my eyes—my host's eyes anyway. His dried blood started chipping away from his skin. His forearms was covered in frosts and icy cracks and he started to grow paler, letting the iridescent frosted swirls and cracked lines—like that of a weathered frozen lake, an enchanting floor of ice—paint the rest of him soft blue, making layers and layers of wispy white fogs and webs of blue cracks. His wounds also glowed, mending them almost immediately—sickening to my eyes was the action of undoing my creation. Though he looked frozen, I couldn't help but notice how animated he still looked, how it still looked as if he was still made of flesh. I wanted to touch him, touch him even if it would kill me.

He already knew that I was there, fist clenching even if they were nailed to the board behind his head. His luminous skin made the trails of blood from the countless slashes more evident. Even if he had a blind on, I could imagine the disgust in his eyes. And his cock remained soft, taunting me with his _unbreakable _spirit.

I snickered. _I do love a challenge. _

I pushed him down to the floor, board clanking loudly, weighing down on his hammered palm. His chin smashing against it. I stuck Antonio's cock in him—smaller but he did have the best cock in his land. I pounded him, only getting grunts from Matthias—filled with contempt.

He still hadn't registered any of this as pleasing even though I was aiming dead-on his prostrate, slamming the leaking cock in over and over again in an animalistic pace.

_Fuck this. _

I got my pocket knife and I dragged a huge mark down his spine, erupting like a red waterfall on both of his already bloodied sides. I thrusted harder, also forcing a stick to further fill him, I grabbed his dripping cock, a mix of blood and sweat. I bit down on my lips hard enough to make my host bleed. I know that this is all just an act—a very believable one. _Why can't you just surrender?_

Matthias gasped but _still nothing. _He has yet to succumb, what was it that made him so resistant to this? Even if he hated it, he should've felt the tiniest bit of pleasure. I know Romulus did. I know Sadik did. I know Antonio did.

I buried Antonio deep, moaning loudly as I filled my captive's hole. My knife was dangerously pressing on his tailbone, nails digging to hi strong, cold sides. Fists desperately trying to find the strength to un-nail themselves from the thick and prickly plank of wood under them.

I pulled out of his torn entrance, still spewing cum. I loved seeing the blood trailing down his powerful legs. I loved seeing the newly reopened scabs that I personally marked to deepen his wounds._ He's mine._ I smeared what must've been his fecal matter across his bruised behind. It was strong and putrid, crumbly in my host's fingers. Perfect to remind him of his stature. I continued to plaster him with brown even so much as to disgrace his matted mane and beard that would've been so regal to look at.

"I am tired of waiting." My voice seemed to reign over that of Antonio's. I latched my claws on either side of the man's temples, making him scream as sappy black poison entered through his blood-splattered temples. My hands started to scraped to his nape, my fluids healing the long nail marks.

"You're mine now." I chuckled darkly, watching as the man started to laugh hysterically, incessantly, maniacally. I loved how unsettling it was—my laugh being meld with his and slowly dislodging from this boring vessel named Antonio. I felt my essence being transferred, my bind on Antonio slowly slipping away and unto him when—

_BOOM!_

When I opened my eyes I was thrown across the room by a strong pulse of cold energy. The winds were strong and the snow was blinding. It was a blizzard that took the form of a sphere bulging out around its middle and thinning into small spirals on its ends. The ice around the walls started to move, sounds were sharp like moving broken glass across. They were starting to move towards me, threatening to dissect me and mount me in the wall like a prized kill.

I bit down on my cracked lips. The flattened crystals started to cave towards me, crisscrossing like a deadly cocoon. Spiky, sheer, glassy ice slowly covered Antonio's then his wrists like hand cuffs that were piercing through his ligaments. Rough carpets of ice chipped under my palms, scraping me like broken glass.

_He is her son._

I could feel my blackened blood boil, forcing to melt through the ice. I leapt, separating from the ice coffin, to lodge myself on him again only for the same pulse to completely plaster me to the jagged, cold diamond-filled stone walls of the cellar.

_I fucking hate you._

I cursed, looking up the wall as if picturing the smug smirk on that damned woman's face. I should've known—no wonder his eyes looked familiar.

Then I heard him laughing. Not out of sane joy though but of twisted happiness. I could feel my smirk crawling.

_Finally broken._

I walked towards him, trying to be careful. When I stepped on the ice, it glowed more—a little violently. A long bass sound resonated, shaking me to my very core. Whatever it was, it didn't want me near him but _oh well._ It was slippery, a little wet but it was starting to get cold, frozen crystals coalescing as a web up the Spaniard's pants.

I dare not take a step back. I cannot touch this enchanted ice, it would kill me.

_"I know just what to do with you..."_


	2. 1819: Waking Up

**_1819_**

Matthias woke up with a searing headache. His hand finding its place over his eyes to prevent the accursed morning sun from penetrating his lids. He groaned, rolling to his side when he felt coarse, very long hair tickling his body. Had he slept with a woman with unwashed hair?

He garbled a breaks choke. His whole body stung with huge gashes and rips he didn't remember getting. Once Matthias tensed, he couldn't handle the pain anymore and let out an audible wince. He suck air in sharply also registering some broken bones.

When got on his back again, trying to find a position that would help him tolerate his wounds. One brilliant blue eyes cracked open, seeing nothing but paintings of flowers and over-exaggerate leaves that curled and twisted in a repetitive pattern.

"Must've been with a sadist." He forced his voice, coming out as rough and broken.

His skin turned pale and dry yet brilliantly whitish. The sound of ice cracking went to his ears. Just under his glowing skin covered in frosted white fogs were bright blue cracks, running up in different lengths and widths as jagged yet delicate that formed layer upon layer of random meticulous webs—some more linear, some more spherical, but all looked beautiful. One crack, on his temple, looked like something heavy stepped on it, making a loop with a blasted star on the middle.

For the moment, Matthias found it easier to stay quiet, keep the calm atmosphere as long as it lasted. He knew if he let his body heal, the faster he can get to the bottom of this.

Then he heard small, fast footsteps just in front of his bed. He pushed himself up, all his wight on his hands. A pained squeak come out of him, face contorting to look like a yawning lion. He inspected the room, mind paying attention to the furnishings that were all covered with white cloth than the strange sound earlier.

He sighed. '_Ya must be gettin' old.'_

Just as he was about to lie down, he heard it again. He pushed himself up again this time, his body healing just enough to make it less painful. Matthias looked to the other side and saw a mirror.

There was a very broadly built man with piercing blue eyes and a beautiful Greek nose with a small bump along the slope. His hair was shaggy and long and his beard grew out with it, making him look like a lion of a man. His body was also generously coated in hair, light enough to count our each hard bump on his body. Then his skinned glowed almost white just like—

Matthias felt his heart stop, scrambling back until he fell to the floor, slightly coated in dust. He bumped his head hard, making the floor creak as if about to break. His deadweight feet were just above his head.

Both hands made their way behind his head, his suddenly long hair making it hard to massage the blooming bump.

Matthias heard the floorboard creak softly. Something small was coming towards him. He heard a small gasp and inquisitive sounds just above him.

One he opened his eyes, he could see a small figure glowing to a crown of golden light. It wasn't blinding him, it was hypnotic. The Dane watched as the light slowly died, revealing a child with fair skin, rich blue eyes and warm blonde hair.

The child blinked with Matthias. Both were curious of each other.

Matthias composed himself, rolling forward to his knees. He scooted to face the young boy who had yet to leave his cute eyes away from him.

"What're ya doin' here, little o—"

The boy climbed to stand on his lap and pressed his tiny hands on both side of his head.

The Dane felt air rush into him as pain flooded his mind.

_"I know just what to do with you..."_

There was a darkness that consumed him.

_"Big brother stop!" _

_Tino begged only to get socked. His attention turned back to Lukas who stood bravely in front of him, despite his broken leg. _

_"M-Matthias." The Norwegian grasped when his big hand held him by his throat. "B-brother..." His eyes turned watery. Matthias pressed his hands over his eyes and froze them with thick sheets of encrusted snow, slicing through his eye balls deep._

_"BROOTHERRR!"_

This darkness had him like a snare on the leg of a wolf, injecting him with unspeakable thought, devouring him of all emotion and reason.

_"P-please brother!" Emil choked, his thin nape under the Dane's hand. His young face was badly bruised, bloody, and wet. He shook his head crying loudly._

_"No more brother...n-no more." Was the last thing Emil said before screaming as his head was dunked a tub of scalding water._

Turning him to the perfect monster. To the devil's lapdog. To the ultimate weapon.

_Berwald's dead body was on the floor. He was only me momentarily dead, neck broken and frozen until blackish-blue. His hole was unresisting to Matthias's massive length, going in the hairy virgin ring of muscle that was bleeding._

_This dark cellar was also where his three other brothers__—equally torn open, used, and defiled to his whim__—were being hanged, desperately fighting for their last breaths as they watched their lifeless brother being defiled again. _

All the while losing not only himself but the people he cared most about. His comrades, his men, his friends—the house aids and servants whom he had the pleasure to meet to help with the simple castle chores, the children whom he played with, the animals that he had taken great care of—all killed by his own hands, ripped open, burned, and tortured until their last breath.

_He was thrown into yet another dungeon, chained with swords slicing through him like a pin cushion. The men continuously fired at him as he didn't stay down. He could hear his laughs, choking him but being unable to stop._

_"I-I will find who did this to you__—" Lukas stood by the door, illuminated by the light behind him. He was wrapped in cloth to cover his wounds and his eyes were now dull and dark. _

_"Even if it kills me, brother." He looked down at Matthias who simply laughed louder._

_"I have no brother."_

The Dane stumbled back, the fiery pain leaving him, the child along with it. His breaths turned shaky and his skin was cold with sweat. Ice spires surrounded him, inching closer to their master as if to comfort him.

Matthias eyes were wide open, shaking his head in denial. Tears stung his eyes as cold mush that slowly fell down his chin.

_"Nej."_ He shook his head once.

_"Nej. Nej. Nej."_ He shook his head again until his face scrunched up, surrendering himself to his tears. He hid his face behind his knees, rocking himself as he sobbed loudly.

Then he heard the door open but he didn't bother to look up.

"Herre Danmark er vågen!" A man shouted down the hall, immediately running down to alert everybody.

_"Herre Danmark er v__ågen!"_

* * *

_The walls were cursed to be hot, scorching actually. The floor was too. There was clarity in all of these. He was only able to compose himself at the wee hours of the night, when no one would be awake even Lukas. _

_What was his younger brother up to nowadays? What were all his younger brothers doing? Were they still together? Were they missing him?_

_Matthias laughed solemnly. Of course they didn't, that was why he was locked here, incapacitated, in the first place to pay for his crimes. _

_He wished that maybe just once one of them could see him right now. Get the truth out there before he turned insane once again._

_He tried to laugh it off but special swords were pressed past through his shoulder blades, negating his cold magic._

_"It's a very cruel life." One tear dropped on his thighs before his eyes slowly closed to sleep._

* * *

Matthias went to church and attended all the masses that day. Even if he wasn't catholic anymore, he recited the rosary between masses. He—he wasn't finding the peace he was trying to find as more and more of the memories came back.

There was one priest who knew about his real identity—Father Allen was his name. He was gracious enough to bend the rules and make an impromptu confession for him that lasted two hours. Let's just say that Father Allen did not want to have confessionals again.

When the Dane got back home. He had a long bath, letting the water rinse out the bodily dirt and grime from the last two hundred years.

His hair was cut short again and his beard was shaved right off. Finally, he could see his face in the mirror but with horrid black bags, yellow teeth and red eyes.

His respiration reverberated in the huge, extremely fancy bathroom. It was filled with huge mirrors with gilded frames and gilded furniture and even with a gilded bath tub. Everything in this time period was about gold, flowers, and big hair.

He exited the bathroom, going down the hall almost stark save for his necklaces and his towel. He heard a maid swoon before getting scolded by an older maid and he saw some of the guards stare. However when he looked in front of him, he stopped completely. It was—

"L-Lukas?" He became breathless, his brother looking far more mature and wearing the fashion of today.

The Norwegian had just stepped out from the king's office when he locked eyes with his older brother.

The Dane felt his heart beat tenfold in both excitement and remorse and just as he was about to say something everything went dark and cold.

...

Lukas could feel his heart in his throat seeing his brother standing in front of him, registering that the Dane was too dumbfounded to wear anything but an unreadable expression. He started to move forward, holding back his tears until he finally embraced his towel-clad brother.

It felt warm and comforting as he cried on his strong shoulder. It was like all his prayers have been answered until he grew suspicious of his brother's lack of movement.

An oppressing air grazed his soul. Dark whispers filled his head and the hall' slights started to flicker. Black molds started to crawl from the corners of the hall, closing in on them slowly.

He pulled away, staring into the Dane's blank eyes. He inspected closer and closer until black gunk came down the sided of his eyes and into his hands.

"Brother, what is this?" He asked, unsuccessfully trying to swipe the fluids away when Matthias crushed his arms in a vise-like grip. Lukas tried to break free but of all the Nordics only Denmark was given superhuman strength _(and Sweden to a lesser degree)_.

Norway tired to recite a rebuking spell, hoping to distract the deathly aura for him to regroup. But before he can formulate words, he gasps seeing Denmark turn to nothing but a tower of tar. Some of it got into his mouth until it flooded him.

Matthias pulled him closer, covering him in even more black fluids until he was drowning in them, choking, feeling an evil aura consume him.

...

Lukas opened his eyes. He has yet to hug his brother who was coming closer. He took a few steps back just to be sure but then the Dane smiled.

It didn't feel the same. It wasn't his genuine, sweet smile that always put him at ease. There was something dark about it and when his eyes un-crinkled, something vile lit the back of the brilliant sapphires.

_"Hej. Norge."_ His voice was deep and unsettling. "Care to give an old buddy a hug?" He extended his arms, slowly closing in his younger brother until—

Matthias crouched, feeling a some pain from getting kicked on the stomach. He coughed loudly, getting the attention of some of the guards. His eyes were teary and when the water cleared he saw his brother glaring down at him, mixed with fear and anger.

**"Don't come near me."** He said, shaking. Denmark felt his heart break at that moment.

**"Don't ever come near any of us.** **You are not my buddy**.** Not our buddy."** Lukas felt his whole being on unsteady ground but he had no choice anymore.

The thing hasn't let go of his brother, it just evolved to better suit the times. His eyes were starting to water which physically felt like wasps stinging the back of his eyes. Lukas dared not to look anymore and fled, running down the stairs leaving Matthias with the royal guards.

Matthias didn't know what happened. All he remembered was seeing Lukas then blacking out. Whatever happened to him two centuries ago was still inside him and he knew Lukas was right to say that. He was a danger to everybody. He had to stay away from them, it would be a heinous crime for him to risk their lives just so that he could see them again.

He stood up, not caring for the frantic men around him. He had to lock himself away, far away from everyone or else—

_'It might happen again...' _He curled his fists as walked to his new room, covering the carpet and walls in cold ice and snow.

His shoulders shook as his chest heaved. Frozen tears yet again raced down his face, nose reddening as he continued to hiccup.

If this was what had to be done.

He took the golden knob in his hand, immediately making a thin sheet of patterned ice swirl across the masterfully crafted door.

Denmark felt his knees grow weak and after trying to find the strength to open the door, he collapsed to his knees, silently crying. Something stroke his insides, something foreign and unwelcomed.

**_You know you can't resist..._**

_"H-herre Danmark." _A guard called out worriedly.

**_Tell them you're fine..._**

"_J-Jeg godt." _His soft voice quivered like every men's soul as a cold, snowy wind swept by them. He couldn't say no to it.

**_You'll do anything for me, right?_**

_"Jeg m__å__ g__ø__re, hvad der skal g__øres." _He said blankly, standing up and closing the door.

I must do what must be done.

He walked around the dark room, making his way to his bed which was placed beside a mirror. A small impression crawled soft from his chest to his temple, his neck bended slightly as if trying to fight and move on his own accord.

**_You're Denmark, got that...Denmark. Not Matthias._**

_"Jeg Danmark." _He said, staring at the mirror.

**_And Denmark can do anything..._**

Something clicked inside him. It sent nauseating waves through out him. He grabbed his temples, massaging them as he winced.

**_Believe me now?_**

He stopped, hands dropping to his side as his head fell forward limply. He felt calm, at peace with whatever he was commanded to do. He gave a curt chuckle, smug and annoying, things he would never value or condone of. But now he did, he was Denmark after all, the King of North.

He brought his head up slowly, a devilish grin stretched his lips, teeth showing.

Gone was Matthias. Gone was the pious man. Gone was the merciful fool. Gone was the generous idiot. Gone was the man who listened to his heart. Gone was the imbecile who never thought for his own wants.

This time it was all about _him, him, him._

"I can do anything..." He began, pridefully.

A laugh started, dark and powerful. There would be nothing to keep him down. He was powerful like a god. He could bend the people to his own will. He could be king again.

**_Now sleep..._**

The Dane fell back to bed, towel coming undone. He snored loudly and face relaxed, completely obedient to his master.

**_Let's keep you a secret from Matthias, okay?_**

"_Ja..._" He replied, ever so obedient to the voice inside.

The Dane arched his back, black branches, waving up and down under his skin like turbulent waters. He held back a roar of pain, face reddening. It became even more rapid, continuing to resurface and submerge, all racing up to the brain.

**_Done._**

It stopped, him falling back limp and exhausted as Denmark surged back down to the depths of Matthias, waiting for the day he was to be called back.


	3. 1637: The Light

**_1637_**

A strong flash of light, golden and warm. Those were the two things that really made this light horrible. That and it's ability to burn right through me without really burning me and throwing me a hundred feet across painfully.

This body had inhuman speed, three rows of crooked, needle teeth and the ability to make sounds and bursts of air that could explode a person. This child's body was incredible up until this point. _So much for starting young._

"Mattie..." A young voice called, almost identical to this child's voice when he screamed in pain upon my entering.

"Mattie!" I can hear his small feet crashing on the bloody snow.

"MATTIE!" The voice's owner picked my host up in his arms, strangely strong for a young boy like him.

Then, I saw _him_. Swirling, I crept around the whites of this violet-eyed boy's eyes.

His eyes were the brightest blue, enhanced with his tears and his hair _oh _his hair was a beautiful, strange shade of yellow. Soft sunny orange on top yet slowly blending to shining gold.

"Mom's hurt. She's hurt. Mattie! What did you do?" He shook me. How I loved to be shook. I smiled small, looking to my side as this boy's twin continued.

_'Mom'_ —I call the bitch by her real name, Aiyana—was lying in the snow far from us. She had her brown body soaking in a pool of her own blood much like this child's body. She had her brown eyes wide open and her mouth gaping for air. He hair almost seamlessly joined the watery blood beneath her but she didn't have disgustingly burned-black hands with bleeding meat shredding through them..

How happy I am to see Aiyana like this. How happy I am to remind her of what happens when someone crosses me.

That whore deserved it. She was going to stop me from taking over. I can't have that.

I knew it would be a good idea to diverge some of myself from Antonio. Now I have two bodies I have control over. But then again, I want the boy above me more instead. Such power from a small boy, such control, such beauty—

"Shut up child!" I said, grabbing my new favorite toy since Matthias by his neck. He wriggled and kicked violently, shouting as loud as he could as I dug this child's protruding claws deep into his brother's sides.

**_"MAGIIIII!"_** He screeched, summoning strong winds around us. The skies turned black and the clouds started to circle. One bolt of flaming hot lightning struck near us then another then another until it was a steady stream of the jagged lines of light trapping us. Fire erupted from the snow, dancing like a wild temptress that circled nearer and nearer in an enticing fashion that had me swooning.

My dark eyes went back to the child. His eyes glowed vacant yellow with golden lines latticing on his skin like blooming flowery webs. Tons and tons of it interlocking with each other's random-moving rays like a bush of the most magnificent flowers in in Eden.

_Sigh...Eden...brings back so many memories._

Wings sprouted from his back, magnifying the disgusting light like mirrors. The winds were forcing me back, shoving clumps of snow, tendrils of fire—pushing me closer and closer to the fence of lightning. I felt my powers drain away from me.

Fear consumed my dark being and I'm supposed to be fear, _okay? _I shouldn't be scared. I tired to keep my footing but now, even with my iron grip onto the child's sides, I was being lifted by his powerful wings.

I felt myself burning once again, vines of light started to latch on to me like a kraken's tentacles. The control I had of this body's hands was slowly and painfully deteriorating. I didn't know that I could ever feel pain.

"_LET GO OF MEEEEE!" _The winged child shouted again, a bright pulse knocking me away. I started to ooze out his brother's nose.

All I could see was red, yellow, white. All I hear was fire crackling and whirring, thunder booming, winds screaming, and rain clobbering. All I could feel was the torturous flames that burned like Holy fire and the lightning the prickled deep in me, shredding and tearing. All I remember next was a strong push that burned me once more, those golden eyes, a dying woman's chant, the urge to close my eyes for the time I will reawaken this body to destroy the accursed child that almost killed me.

_"Alfred!"_

_"F-Fwancis!"_


	4. 1825: One Way Road

**_1825_**

America, as he is now called, was thrown back to his room, naked, beaten and bloody. His eyes and mouth were covered with cloth. His hands and feet were held together with chain for the novelty of it all. It wasn't like he couldn't break the chains. Alfred had the physical strength to have snapped them like string.

"There you go, _min liebe." _Prussia dragged the other's bloody body. He was nude as well, battle-scarred and broadly muscled just as the American with his thicker length still hard from the hour he spent with him in the kitchen.

What Prussia wanted to see was the beautiful young man vulnerable and marked by him and him alone, unable to fight his authority not because of _his _sexual needs but to fulfill Gilbert's.

"Remember, this stays between us, _liebe._" The man tried to haul the bigger American to his bed with some struggles from the heavy chains weighing him down.

Luckily, the child wasn't as stupid. He was smart enough to know not to fight and not to tell or else—

"I wouldn't want something to happen between our nations." He snickered, caressing Alfred's tear-wetted cheek. He took off the mouth gag, seeing the others teeth turn pink with blood.

It would mean humiliation. It would mean that he got to kill some random person and Prussia knew that that will never settle well with him. It would mean disappointment, outrage, and conflict within his family, his superiors, their superiors and Gilbert knew other ways to make things not pretty. He could stage murders and point the blame at his own men or Alfred's then start a war and that would mean even more chaotic that would mean America had no other choice but to—

"Y-yes." Alfred answered.

—agree.

There was something twisted in the red-eyes man's mind, something so twisted that Alfred has seen the darkness in his eyes. As the man hastily put on his clothes, he heard the other's sniffles. His eyes trailed the scarred body that lied on the soft bed.

Most of them had gone dry and crusty but some were still pouring which looked very enticing, like he wanted to make them all bigger and fresher.

He did him a favor, adding more black bruises to his already marked skin.

He did him a favor with his hot wax.

He did him a favor with his whip.

Prussia couldn't help but explore the bruised body one more time. He couldn't stop going up and down the marvelous torso, his fingers literally cruising above each defined ridge. His pale fingers, lightly played with his beautiful torso, going for the softened nub and squeezing it trailing up the triceps that bulged and quivered. He then took the other's sizable cock, even if it was soft, and gave it a tug. The other laughed, registering his scream as a moan of pleasure instead.

America took a sharp breath.

"That's it."

He wanted to see those young muscles tense, forcing not to break the metal and get out. He liked seeing the sweat and blood cover his toned body, the body he trained. What delight it was to have trained Alfred, honing his body for his own pleasure. The young American's body has filled out perfectly. Seeing the once slim child grow into a young man with a warrior's body, starting to surpass him, was arousing.

He laced up his boots and did not bother to button his shirt, only tossing his jacket over his body. He crouched over the body, undoing the chains and cloth over his eyes.

His gloved hands undid the cloth over his eyes last. His brilliant rubies lusted to look at the rich ceruleans the boy had.

"Now stop crying, liebe..." Prussia chuckled, rubbing the other's cheek. "It is our anniversary after all...didn't you think my present was great?"

This has been going on and off since the end of the American Revolution.

America was still crying, feeling pressure on his wounds. He took his head away, not wanting to lay his eyes upon the monster his friend had become.

"**_Well, did you!?_**" Gilbert asked angrily, his hands on the other's throat. He forgot that he could snap his pale neck with not much effort. He forgot that he had experienced physical pain far worse than he could ever give but _fear _has taken over all his senses.

The German let go, smiling. _"Ich liebe du." _He said softly, kissing the lips that dare not fight back anymore.

"I l-love you too..." The American forced a reply, watching the man exit his room and close the door.

Once the door was closed and he heard the other's feet walk away, he curled into a small ball, hiding under his blanket.

He didn't love him... Of course he didn't, what the hell? Even after half a century, he would never ever love Prussia...and love wasn't something that he would ever get from somebody else, it was an impossibility to find love for someone like him, someone that was weak.

Lightning flashed.

His lips were cut and bruised. Saliva with a faint mix of blood bubbled from the corner of his mouth.

Thunder roared.

He left forearm was broken, his right wrist was sprained. Arms were filled with patches of purple and even black.

Rain poured.

He bit his lips, feeling where the whip tore through his skin and the wax stung his wounds. The memory of every single administration flooded him all at once.

Winds howled.

Sharp, ornate, connected diamonds started to spiral out circularly, components growing larger as they spiraled farther from the small golden point they came from. More points erupted and bloomed, creating a collection of suns along his arm then his chest, his legs, his face. His whole body has become a garden of golden rays. His marks started to close up remarkably fast and his bones started to reconnect painfully.

He didn't want to fight anymore. He could bare all if it meant his _'lover' _would keep his mouth shut. Of course, he knew that he would have supporters if he told everyone but would they all be safe with the monstrous man? What assurance did he have that this won't just make things worse?

Gilbert could go for his friends—his family. He couldn't have that. He just couldn't. Sacrifices had to made and this was his.

Alfred gripped on the hem of his covers tightly, crying himself until he dozed off to painless, subtle sleep.

* * *

_What happened? How could this__—_

Prussia stopped in the middle of the sidewalk in the middle of the starless night. He could still see the blood on his hands though, the sweat on his body, the remnants of his release.

His eyes were wide in horror, mouth quivering as he gave out shaky, sounded breaths like a twitching mental patient.

_—have happened again?_

His hands trembled, trying to close. Fisting them only intensified the feeling, palms and finger pads becoming hypersensitive to the crusty blood on them.

"A-Alfred?" Knees felt like they were gonna give. "I-Ich—"

Gilbert turned around, lifting one lead feet in front of the other. The more he trekked back, the stronger the winds were and the more rain picked up.

He remained unfazed, fighting the storm until a strong gust knocked him off. It threw him well across the wide road. He was skidded down the pavement, exactly at the middle of the wet road.

He looked up but the rain was so thick that it was a only a few feet when a light emerged. It rammed him, he felt hooves dig down his chest and wheels crush his wrists. The strong thunder masked his screams, the old driver who got knocked off and the startles heights of the two black horses that had trampled him.

He coughed out blood, splurging when the second set of wheels pushed down on his organs. His blood red eyes could now only faintly see the light being blocked by the carriage's behind, still only illuminating less than five feet around it as it slowly delved into the darkness once again.

"A-Al—" His snapped neck and the strong, tall currents of water were drowning him. His blood tainted the muddy water, flowing violently against the crashing tides going down the storm drain as life exited the Prussian. With his life come out a bubbling stream of black through his mouth, screaming as the water pushed it away from its host and to its demise.

_"__Entschuldigung..."_

* * *

There was still a small drizzle left, the sun has yet to shine. The cold body of Gilbert was turning blue around the lips, the eyes, and the ears. His neck was broken, seeing as it wasn't really straight and instead obliquely crooked. His red eyes turned milky and his white hair was swaying around in the thinning clear waters like a halo against the black street.

Then—

The corpse sat up, sucking in the air, raspy and needy. The milky fluids that coated his eyes slid down his eyes with his reflexive tears. He gave his head a strong push to the side, snapping his neck back to the way it's supposed to be, helping his body's regeneration process. After taking in air all he could do was cough and convulse. Living warmth crept into his skin, letting the deathly cold escape his body before feeling the cold breeze against his warming skin.

He pushed himself up, trying to keep his balance. His whole upper body was bent low, hands open to make sure he doesn't fall with his stiff legs trying to stumble around like a newly born foal.

He didn't expect that to happen—_again_ but he was thankful for a perk like this. He rubbed the crook of his neck and around his nape comfortingly. The bones were healing faster than expected.

There was a small smile on him, it was soft and grateful. He stopped hearing them, _the voices_, the ones that took hold of his actions. He felt ease, he felt himself. He was sure of it, the demons that have plagued him were gone.

He looked up, the sky was still a little dark but you could see the world in blue, small droplets meeting his face. He saw them. He saw the woman who bore him and the man who betrothed her. He hasn't seen them in a long time and he hasn't ever seen them when he died before. Only now.

His red eyes started to stream with tears, going down his flushed cheeks.

He took it as his fault that he had done wrong to a friend even if he had no control of his actions. He didn't even know if _'wrong'_ was the appropriate word for it. He still had to make things right. It was his fault for being weak. It was the only thing that was going through his head. But he knows Alfred isn't going to forgive him right away, he wasn't even sure if he'd ever forgive him. He had to try nonetheless.

_'But not now...' _He dug his hands in his pockets, walking hastily to the sidewalk just in case another carriage decides to kill him.

He had to go back home to Germany. He had to make things right with his little brother first.

* * *

America was snoring loudly, curled to a ball and snuggled against a pillow. His wings were twitching, long feathers gradually sprouting out to complete his plucked wings. Line by line, the strong flickering interlocking crystalline webs started to fade, all grouping and contracting together towards his chest.

They lit up one last time like a golden chain mail cuirass. The nation was rolling to his back when a surge exploded from inside him like blowing a gasket.

"_OOF!" _The reflex forced the air out of him, eyes popping open and mouth pursing out.

It didn't hurt really. It was more like getting surprise-tackled and stuff. But then it gets better.

Alfred moaned contently, stretching out as the nourishing energy flowed in his veins. It went through them, making them look like white flickering rivers, connecting and diverging, at the mercy of his blood vessels' contours.

The light was his Godsend. It was his therapy, the consolidation he needed to wake up chipper the next day. But of course, he still liked to further awash himself with going to the local church—knowing by the pious Francis that God's always there for everyone.

Alfred tossed his body to lie on his back, hands resting under his head. His smile was soft but a little loopy as he watched his ceiling, contemplating.

The key to this process was extreme self-loathing followed by self-reflection then there was forgiveness—no, he hasn't really forgiven him, only a little, only a tad, a smidge maybe—and sleep, all wrapped up in a huge storm of rage.

Any of the evidence of last night's horror really healing to almost nothing. _Almost. _They were still there but they were probably enough to not be noticed by most.

Just like his scars, his feelings towards the Prussian were the same. His anger had left considerably, being barely there, but his fears were still lingering under his skin, subtly reminding him of the horrible nights of the past. What was worst was that it was all conglomerated with all his other fears, his scars, the things that wake him up at night when he was alone. It made him always look behind his back, made him more paranoid than he ever was ever since his mother died. But it was that same fear that made him stronger, smarter, more human.

Alfred knew that this was his life now for better or for worse. It's life after all and he had to brave the journey but as long as he had his loved ones, he'd fight for another day.

He would do that all for them.

"Damn, I'm still tired." He yawned out, cracking his neck until comfortable. More sleep meant faster recovery that's what mom taught them.

He then wiggled around his bed until he found just the right spot for him to drift back to slumber.


	5. 1845: a stroll with someone 'new'

**_1845_**

Denmark's room was particularly simpler than any of the other rooms. Its wallpaper was that of a pastel teal with faint trailing leave patterns and wide cream stripes pinstriped with gold along the edges.

He had a fireplace, a comfortable chair, a table by a walk-through window, a bed and shelves upon shelves of books—ranging from history to anatomy.

Though always kept clean, he always kept a part ion of his desk messy with old and worn brushes, messy stacks of paper filled with the most beautiful drawings one would ever see, an easel with a huge sketch pad reserved for watercolor painting, and blank canvases for him to unleash his creativity.

His bed was only one mattress thick and it wasn't as soft or as luxurious as any of the royals'. He made the bed frame simple, made of wood from a tree he personally chose and chopped. It wasn't that he couldn't match the craftsmanship of the carpenters who made the royal family's beds, he simply chose not to.

It was the least stuffy room in the whole castle and one of the few places the staff didn't bother to clean for Matthias has always beat them to it. The morning light was bright and welcoming much to the Dane's relief since it has been raining for the last few weeks.

"_Danmark." _A meager knock followed.

"_Herre Danmark?" _Another.

_"Hvad?"_ Denmark asked politely from his comfortable chair by the unlit fireplace. He set down his book, filled with arithmetic questions of high scholar level, followed by his glasses.

"The—king would like to see you." The maid, already in her late 50s, peeked in with half of her body in view. She gave a small smile, soft like a mother's.

"Thank you—_uhh__—_" He slurred, cocking his brow, a questioning groan coming from the back of his throat.

"Margaret, sir." She answered politely making way for the broadly built man.

"Margaret." Denmark repeated, nodding knowingly at the small woman who has been working around the castle since she had her first child at the young age of 23.

The huge arc windows lit the hall spaciously, gilded painting frames and candle posts were scattering the light in a subtle golden sheen. Glass chandeliers above his head were simple yet admirable and the wallpaper, salmon with golden leaves and bright red flowers, definitely popped.

Then there was a short part of the hall which was windowless, a huge family portrait being placed instead of the wide windows.

The walk wasn't long, they were just three rooms apart—three fairly large rooms. The office was the first room to be encountered upon climbing the grand staircase, being just across it.

Denmark knocked thrice, hand already around the cabinet-style door's knob. A loud grunt replied and he went in.

"Ah, _Danmark._" The King acknowledged, still deep in his kingly paperwork duty. He placed his pen down and threw his body back to his seat's rest.

"Please take a seat." Fredrick gestured yo the chair before pressing his fingers together in front of his mouth with his elbows resting on the armrests.

Denmark walked to his seat, waiting patiently for the king to talk. He started to whistle mindlessly, fingers tapping as if he was playing the piano in the foyer.

"You have heard of America, right?"

"The continents?" He sounded unsure, hand trying to loosen his collar.

"The country. United States?" The man sounded disinterested and tired.

"The English colony." Matthias snapped his fingers.

"Former." The King sighed, pushing and rubbing his eyes with his right hand's fingers.

He understands his nation's predicament, it must've been really hard. He has been nothing but a solid father-figure to him but he's under a lot of pressure nowadays and with Denmark not even stepping one foot out of the country, he doesn't know what to do anymore.

"J-Ja."

How he hated seeing Matthias like this, shriveled up, eyes glued on his feet, hands clasped on his knees, teeth biting on his lips as if scared or hurt.

"Matthias, I don't think it is fair for you to isolate yourself. That's why I have arranged a small playdate." The King smiled, pushing his headache to the back of his mind for now.

"I want you to pick up America and show him around for a couple of days." Frederick grinned.

"A—a playdate?" The nation looked like he was about to say no when—

"King's orders."

"That doesn't mean I'm gonna play the part of the world's most welcoming host." Denmark threatened half-heartedly, sinking down his chair with his arms defiantly crossed.

"Matthias." Frederick clicked his tongue, sounding a little whiny, a little naggy, a little tired, like a mother trying to ask something of a child without sounding too overbearing.

"Fine. Fine." The nation raised his hands, palms out and fingers outstretched, in line with his chest feign-defensively, flashing all his teeth in that happy, infectious smile of his.

The Danish King smiled back though able to sense his nation's reluctance.

"America's a nice young man and I know that you two will be quick friends."

"This isn't a scheme to get diplomatic favors again, right?" Denmark smiled incredulously.

"If this was favors, I would've invited one of your brothers instead." Frederick answered sternly, grabbing his papers in a messy stack in his hands and then tapping the stack on the table until perfectly aligned.

He looked up from his papers to the tall man with a solemn frown, eyes stuck on the floor.

"Out of all the nations, I think that Alfred would definitely give you the easiest time." The King cleared his throat.

"And he is very soft on the eyes too."

"And what does that have to do with anything?" Sadness turned to slight irritation, Matthias standing up to fix his coat.

"Oh nothing, just a heads up."

* * *

Amagertorv was where they were supposed to meet. It is the city's main square where there were fish vendors shouting to gain buyers' attention with their _low low _prices whilst strong horses pulled carriages of all shapes and sizes and children ran around playing as their mothers struggled between buying food and watching their young.

Matthias did like how alive everybody was, how alive he felt seeing his people. It was enough to partially fill the void left by his brothers. _Partially. _

It was almost enough to make him forget of becoming Spain's whore—

Denmark winced a little, rubbing his arms comfortingly. He looked back at the people, all oblivious of his identity. This was the first time he ever felt like one of them and he didn't mind that. He was no longer treated as a commodity or a gift for peace meant to be wrecked. _Not anymore._

Was it sick of him to think that he'd rather suffer again if it meant that they were still with him?

"Here he comes..." Margaret whispered inconspicuously, secretly tugging his pants with her soft hands.

A carriage pulled up, drawn by two bay horses. They were beautiful and healthy, bronze coats and black stockings and muzzle shiny and smooth to the eyes. The carriage boy jumped boldly from his seat way above the horses.

The old lady beside Denmark gripped on his sleeves tightly, gasping softly like her heart jumped in her throat.

The young man wore a black waistcoat over a flattering white collared shirt and black pants. His very sturdy built, forearms popping with sinews and veins as he petted the horses, and his height were very unusual for someone who had a face who could warm a person's heart. He looked like he was just approaching 20.

The horses clamored for him, neighing and rearing playfully to get his attention, going as far as to nibble on his peculiarly colored blond hair. Tints of orange shone from the soft golden locks. The carriage boy laughed, petting them from behind as they went down his nape and the other, the collar. Then the horse on the right moved to the hem of his shirt, tugging down and pulling up to sneak its big head inside his shirt.

Matthias couldn't help but laugh a bit. He found it very heartwarming as well, the deep connection between the horses and their handler. The animal's muzzle was getting squeezed by the waistcoat, some of the boy's skin being revealed, built strong like his stature.

Finally, the answer as to why the horses were being so touchy fell from the shirt and to the pavement.

Two brightly colored apples.

"Here you go guys. One for each." The carriage boy snickered, helping them with the apples that were eaten in a hurry. He smiled softly as he petted them, both equally eager to snuggle. His blue eyes were the most bold shade of the color the two Dane's had ever seen.

"_Ahem._" The Danes' attention turned to the young man in front of them.

He was dressed in such a formal way that greatly embarrassed Matthias for he chose to wear something less restricting and heavy.

He had fair brown hair that was tied with a ribbon._Typical. _And wore a bored, highly expression.

This must be America. _Crap. _He knew Frederick was messing with him. Entertaining a corpse was very hard indeed. _Easy on the eyes, my ass, _he thought sourly.

"May I introduce—" He reached out beside him, grabbing nothing but air as he slurred. He grew irritated and the dumbfounded when he found out that the person he was to introduce was not even remotely beside him.

"Alfred." He shouted, gaining the attention of the carriage boy. The boy left his horses, petting them generously before running towards them.

The older man had his hand firm on the younger man's shoulder, giving a few good, proud shakes.

"May I introduce to you, the United States of America." He said proudly, placing his monocle in his pocket.

First of all, he was just thankful that he didn't have Arthur's huge eyebrows or Francis' beard. Though still developing, his features were very much like people from the north of Europe. He had a finely sloped Greek nose much like Lukas and cheeks that were prominent in his smile like Berwald. His jaws had just the perfect squareness and his face wasn't very round but not too wasn't kidding about being easy on the eyes, he thought.

Matthias and Margaret were surprised to say the least, blinking once, twice, then slowly looking at each other. _One. Two. _Shook their heads and looked back.

"M-may I introduce, the Kingdom of Denmark." Margaret said respectfully, bowing only slightly with her head held up, one hand gracefully gesturing to the Northern nation.

"It is an honor to finally meet you, _Herre Danmark._" America extended his hand which was veiny, rough, and burned—among the other blemishes.

What has this kid been doing? Wrestling bears and moose bulls? Going to burning coal mines?

Denmark took off his gloves, slightly shaking in nervousness. He shook the American's hand with his equally imperfect hand.

"N-nice to meet you."

The smile on the younger nation's face gradually widened while the Dane's small smile quivered.

The two nations were left alone to _bond _or something. The taller one walked stiffly, trying to glance the young man beside him every one in a while, who'd smile back whenever he caught the Dane staring.

It has been a good twenty minutes and all they've done is walk around the city's main square with Denmark too afraid to talk, leaving America to figure out what was happening around them and to make assumptions of everything.

"So—" America sighed, shaking his shoulders slightly. "This is a fish market."

"J-Ja." Denmark's voice turned squeaky. Throat cleared, he shoved his hands deep in his pockets.

"I really like fish." The shorter nations smiled at him which he responded with a soft grunt.

"Good thing it didn't rain today, right?"

_Grunt._

"You know I've always wanted to meet you in person."

That made Denmark's heart skip a beat, face lighting up like a lamp. His wide eyes met the American's crinkled ones. Someone actually _wanted _to—meet him?

"But Mr. Norway told me that you were _too busy_ back then." Alfred's smile dropped softly, looking down at his foot that made a small puddle splash.

Matthias grew scared by the seconds, nervousness and fear creeping all over him. He turned light-headed and his ears were flooded with the sound of his erratic pulse. Flashes of the rotting walls that had contained him for two centuries, torn limbs scattered on the floor, screams, fire, his brothers, Spain started to overwhelm him. His lungs were tightening further, eyes pulsating for reasons beyond him.

What if he started asking why? What if he found out? What the fuck's America gonna say? What the fuck's he gonna say back?

Maybe it was his paranoia but he could feel the dark crawling back to his mind.

"So thank you for taking the time to show me around. I'm very sorry if I'm being a burden." The America said quietly, shuffling along the busy streets, too unsure of what to say next.

"I—I understand if your king only forced you to—show me around the city." He looked up to clear sky, trying to keep his twitching face as neutral as possible.

Has he been that transparent?

Forming in the Dane's core was a pit of guilt, gnawing its way out his body. He couldn't take the kicked-puppy look the American was giving. He couldn't take the way he looked so disappointed like a child having his dreams crushed. He hasn't even made an effort while his guest has been trying to entertain him all the while like he was desperate to get him talking. Maybe he shouldn't be so scared anymore.

"Maybe—" America reached for him reluctantly before pulling his hand back to pinch his chin instead, deep in thought.

"M-maybe I should head back to the stables. Conor isn't very good with anima—"

"I'm very sorry if I came across as rude to ya." Denmark fumbled, grabbing the younger nation's wrist before he could turn around.

The older's eyes were cast down at the puddle beside him, freckles lighting up his cheek.

"I—I haven't really interacted with other countries this way before. I haven't interacted with any of them in a very long while."

As a matter if fact, he has only been reading books, painting, and learning to play instruments and new languages for the past two decades. He had only met foreign royalty as Matthias, the king's right-hand man, and not as Denmark.

"I guess yer not the only one new to this." Alfred laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head.

"S-sure, I've met some of them. There's Mr. Netherlands, and Mr. Sweden, and Russia and Mr. N-No—"

Denmark's eyes swung away, looking pained. America looked very reluctant to continue, embarrassment making his cheeks pink.

_Cough._

"Um then there's P-Prussia..." He muttered in an amalgamation of anger and fear.

"But they've all been very formal save for Russia. He's really cool—I mean, not as cool as you of cour—" The American choked, rubbing his throat to pass it off as something else.

"I-I—that was very weird—I'm weird—I..." He sighed in defeat.

"Y-yeah. I'm just—_weird_." America bravely tugged his wrist away from Denmark who couldn't help but feel a flattered yet flustered smile creep.

"Why don't I show you Nyhavn? It's lined with some pubs if you want to drink." His smile went wide yet soft, hand extended with a silent promise of a good time.

"I'd love to." Alfred graciously shook Matthias' hand, firm and brotherly, like the men they were.

* * *

"I have never met someone who could keep up with me in drinking." Denmark laughed loudly, arm swung over America's surprisingly broad shoulders—they were bigger up close like this than they were a few hours ago and he was sure it wasn't the alcohol or his perspective.

"If yer surrounded by drunkards, you better sober up or no one'll keep an eye on them." America balanced the heavier Dane who had more to drink by a few mugs.

"Ya've lived such a colorf'l life then!" Denmark hiccuped, feeling just a little buzzed. He felt so relieved that there wasn't anyone threatening him to stay and drink until everything became a blur. He was just glad to have a surprisingly mature boy who an old, crazy dirtbag like him could talk to.

"Okay tiger, you need to get some sleep." America patted his freckled cheeks to keep him from sleeping.

"NEJ!" The older man stretched his arms out. "**_D_****_u_**_ har brug for s__øvn__." _He slurred, collapsing yet again to the sturdy nation beside him.

**_(A/N: You _**_need sleep**.)**_

Matthias hasn't had this much fun since—since he left for new land...where he met—

Denmark groaned, stumbling closer to his new friend. He couldn't remember...who exactly he had to remember.

"Y'okay?" America asked with that very foreign accent of his, which Denmark nodded at with loud giggles.

With all the ransacking and hunting and raising four very clingy children, what was left for him to enjoy on his own? _Nothing._ Even drunken nights were usually filled with threats on his younger brothers' lives if he refused to partake. But now they were gone so he practically had no weaknesses anymore—nothing precious left in his life he'd be willing to die for.

"Hey. Hey." Alfred poked his temple immaturely. "Why don't I return the favor?" He asked with a sly grin when the other brought his head to look at him.

_"Hvordan?__"_

**(_A/N: _**_how?**)**_

"What if I—" Alfred slurred, getting Matthias to whimper in excitement. "I give you a tour of my hotel room!"

Matthias snorted, pushing Alfred away playfully and uncoordinatingly. The two laughed, stumbling back to glue each other to the hips.

"But seriously, I want you to stay the night. We're both drunk and I don't want you to go back to the castle alone." Alfred patted the taller man's back.

"But that's my ho—"

"Weren't you the one saying you need to be the _world's best host_?"

Matthias nodded.

"Right." The American almost fell flat on his face if it wasn't for Denmark's iron grip on his hip. He started to cough from all his laughing.

A very big part of the Dane's brain—his _big brother _instincts—clicked. He started to stroke his back and squeezing his shoulder firmly while wearing a very concerned expression. He hasn't fe,to and expressed this types of emotions in a while to.

"I'm fine—I'm fine." The younger chuckled, getting up with some help from his new friend.

"—so that means you have to do whatever the guest, me, says!" He giggled before calming down, stopping completely with an unclear, dazed smile.

You'd think a kid was never prone to those kinda stuff reserved for old men.

"Thanks for the good time. It's been very lonely back home—" His smile was then directed to Matthias.

"My twin's been putting me in the back burner lately. I know he doesn't mean to but—" He shakes his head, smiling, silently telling himself that he didn't have to bother his host with his petty problems.

The other could empathize. It was hard to be forgotten by your family, to be nothing to them. But the American's situation was nothing more than work hindering his twin's availability, a small tiff. He, on the other hand, had a huge rift between him and the four and he doesn't know what to do to fix it.

"If yer gonna talk like that then fine." Denmark grinned, pushing his hurt deep inside him. "I'll sleep on yer couch but—"

He raised his hand in front America before he could express his happiness.

"Ya have some explainin' to do in front of ol' Fred." He snickered, gaining an affirmative nod from the American.

"Sure, Mr. Denmark!"

"Just call me Denmark or if ya want, just Matthias." Matthias politely suggested.

"I'll call y'Denmark then! Sounds cool!" Alfred joked around.

"Sure, America."

The two friends continued to stumble against each other in silence, letting the starlit night guide them to the American's hotel.

Matthias then looked up inconspicuously, remembering a fairly vague memory of being able to look up the stars with no care or worries, a moratorium where nothing mattered but being in peace. He wouldn't mind seeing the kid more often if it were always like this.

_...He wouldn't mind taking him for master..._

**_I know you don't. _**

A disembodied voice whispered, soothing his pet with a gentle rub on his nape. A smirk placed itself across the Dane's face who remained unaware of the danger lurking inside him.


	6. 1916: Only friend

_Since waking up in the year 1819, Matthias knew two things that have changed in him. _

_One was that he could feel his heart beat slower that normal. He could feel it beat only half as much as it used to. He felt empty and cold and he seldom feels that._

_Two was that he couldn't remember anything before Spain. He couldn't remember anything good from before then but he knew there were good ones, he could feel it in his bones. All that was left was the primal knowledge that he once had a solid relationship with his brothers. Now, he was wrecked in a world filled with darkness._

_Oh yeah, there was a third._

_He had this urge to get close to America...he had the urge ever since they shared a drink...since that night...he has clamored to choke him...batter him...make him beg for his life...but there was something stopping him, just before he explodes and it hurts his mind...it wrecks his insides...it burns through him and the only thing that keeps knocking on his brain was__—_

_"Svell...when are you coming back?"_

_Who the hell is Svell? _

_He'd curl up in the floor, stomach twisting in sever knots and sharp pain would burned through his temples. His throat would turn parch and rough, almost enough to draw blood as he rocked into insanity. The small voice would go on and on as the ice caved him in his room, making a cave filled with icicles on the floor, making chiming taps and haunting howls, accompanying the loudening voice only he could hear._

_Stay away from me...I only need__—_

**_Yes, you only need me, Matthias..._**

_The last thing he would hear was a dark laugh before he'd drift to the darkness._

* * *

**_April 1, 1916_**

He should stop thinking of it.

Matthias took another mug of beer to his mouth.

He should stop.

Another mug of the golden nectar was emptied and tossed with the others.

_Right now._

He wasn't going to hurt Alfred. That's final. Why the thought itched him, plagued him was driving him to the brink of insanity.

"More." He said grumpily and a mug was slid across the table and right under his waiting mouth.

The bartender was an intimidating man in his early forties. He had a line of grey hair just above his well kept hair. His body was well-framed and sturdy. And he wore a sour expression but upon feeling the terrifying tension in the European, he grew respectfully fearful. He wasn't gonna say no to his requests, at least he pays.

He felt the beer working, he was going to be too clumsy to do anything. And all it took was emptying the bar's alcohol cabinet.

**_Oh Denmark~_**

He froze and blanked. The cheap glass broke in his hand. A grey pit started to spin and consume his blue eyes.

_"Ja?" _He muttered as the bartender cleaned his mess, no complaints.

**_What did I tell you to do? _**

_"Hurt Alfred." _He droned mindlessly, arms falling to his sides and back slouching on the stool.

**_Are you gonna hurt him?_**

_"Nej." _A small part of him fought but then he felt an overwhelming flood of pain and pleasure overtake him. He held his hand on his mouth, containing his moan as best as he could.

**_Let me make that clear..._**

_"N-nej. Stoppe." _He fought to shake his head but another pulse and he was writhing on the floor, on his knees as he felt something wiggle in his ass. It was filling him and at the same time, enlarging until it was uncomfortable.

He gasped in pain.

**_You. Will._**

_"Ja." _He nodded. He was released, breathing heavily as he shakily brought his hands to clutch his damp hair. He prostrated, elbows and knees on the floor as he surrendered completely.

**_Good. You know what to do._**

A dark smile cracked. He pushed his wobbly body up. Not a word from the man behind the counter. Denmark's hands crushed the fine wood for support.

_"Hurt Alfred."_

* * *

Something inside is making the American stir, he can't out his finger on it. It felt alien. Sure he was going to war but he knew that that wasn't why is heart was flooding his ears.

He sat up from his chair and looked around the fully furnished office, flipping through a book he has read countless of times on top of a short yet long bookshelf. He was waiting for the Dane to waltzed in. The transactors were already in the other room, he could hear them, they were just about to start the annexation of the Danish West Indies. If the Danish transactors was here, where was _the _Dane himself?

It wasn't like this was going to be the first time him and Matthias meet up. Stuff like that turned out often, the King's very adamant of selling and now is the only time a boss of his took the deal. But it is the first time he felt compelled to check his hair more than twice, put on a new suit, and make sure his teeth were white and gunk free. He's been jumpy and excited the whole morning and when he's left with nothing to do, he does a regular check up in the mirror and pops a ball of mint just to keep his breath fresh. It would be humiliating to be sloppy in front of such an esteemed colleague, right?

"Just the American I was looking for." The door flied open as an evidently intoxicated Dane walked, or staggered rather, in.

"H-hey." Alfred felt his heart drop. Why exactly, he had no fucking clue.

Denmark continued to walk a few steps on either direction, zigzagging until he finally had a hold of the sturdy America.

_Sturdy. One reason master likes him. So it's one reason he likes him too._

"Isn't it too early to be drunk?" America joked around, helping the older man sit. He reeked of alcohol, sweat, musk, and cheap cologne. He was repulsed but he felt his nose linger for a second longer.

_Wait, what?_

"Anytime's a good time!" The Dane snickered, a possessive hand around the other's wrist to make things quick.

"W-well for you maybe...but you really shouldn't be drunk." Worry painted the American's face. He was kneeling in front of him, a firm hand on his back as he locked his enticing eyes.

_Another must be this. As kind and pure as any tainted country could get._

"What if you get in trouble?" He wore a concerned smile.

"Wanna play a game?" Was the only thing that came out from the other's mouth, mind scrambled and conscience null and all.

"No." Alfred answered, standing up to get the whole day with him started and from the looks of it, it would mostly consists of him babysitting.

"Yer not really up for any play—"

He yelped, the man pulling him down on his knees again.

"Dude, what the hell is wrong with you?" Alfred snapped, tugging his hand away. He was about to say something else, something about how immature he was being, how irresponsible he was getting as the years pass, but how fun he was anyway so he lets it all fucking happe—

"I didn't say ya had a choice." The drunkard laughed sinisterly, filling the morning-lit room. His head shook and low with his shoulders lifted up and up like he was a wicked king or a spoiled prince.

_'Hamlet...' _The American shrugged, about to stand up again when he was pinned to the table. His hands immobilized with an elbow pressing the back of his hands together on his back and stomach on the polished wood.

A firm spank to his ass and he was utterly scared, a pitchy yelp breaking from his mouth.

"Yer ass..." A tender fondle. "So tight. I kinda get why he likes ya." The Dane snickered, giving another strong slap.

"Dude, can you please stop?" He started to kick and squirm but it was like he was being pinned down by...himself...a clone or something, if that made sense.

A leg was placed between his, kneading his groan. He bit his lip, stifling a moan as a finger started to swipe on his crack.

A strong, firm chest pressed behind him. The smell of alcohol blowing on him again. Cold breaths tingled his reddened ears.

"Must've had a lot of dicks in this ass." A firm squeeze followed.

_'This is reserved for me, got that.'_

Gilbert's voice shot him. He stopped for a second before he remembered the pain as tears threatened to flow.

"Tell me." The mouth came nearer, fogging the shiny wood in white.

"Have you had anyone inside ya?" He left the question wafting in the thick air.

"Yes." Alfred answered curtly, void of emotion.

He threw his head back hard, knocking Denmark's eyes with a force enough to push him back.

"Ya fucking bastard!" The Dane cursed, falling to his knees as he pressed and smudged on his bruised eye.

"Serves you right." America stood up, fixing his collar and his tie. He turned to face the molester. His eyes turned fiery and beastly, shooting Matthias in place with a horrifying glare.

"That's none of yer business anyway." He kicked Denmark back, breath coming out short as he toppled to the floor.

He opened his damaged eye, already red with blood. He sneered, wiping the trail of blood dripping from his nose.

"I'm leaving." Alfred turned back to get his jacket.

"Where? To go to yer pathetic family?" Matthias laughed. "Ya think ya can stop them from getting their asses kicked?" He brought one hand on his head.

A felt his collar choke him when the strong American held him almost a foot up the ground. His tie was closing around his throat painfully. The lump on his throat pressed against the walls of his neck.

"Gonna kill me?" He forced a cocky grin. "Ya can't, if ya don't know."

"I know." Alfred smiled. He tossed him up and slammed him back to the floor, smashing the floorboards and making the whole building shake.

"But it's fun to be able to _almost_ do it." He was brought up again, face inches away. His teeth was coated red orange with blood and he could feel a wound behind his head.

"I bet yer twin has more guts that ya, ki—"

"Don't fucking call me kid." America's fist, hammered the side of his face.

"What? Family pet name? How sweet?" He teased, bringing his hands together and tilting his head to the side, making baby talk.

"At least I still have a family who cares. At least I have my brother. At least I am not a sick bastard like you. Fucking moron." He let go with one last hard throw towards the ground.

Denmark arched back, a broken roar coming out of him.

_Master liked him for his strength, he figured._

**_Abort mission._**

Matthias carefully reached for his back cranium. _Why was he on the floor? Wasn't he just in the ba__—_

"America?" He sat up. He regretted it, feeling the pain hammer him tenfold. His one good eye, still unfocused and bleary, saw his friend about to walk out.

**_"What?!"_**He eyed him with pure rage.

_"I...um..."_ Matthias shriveled up, pulling his knees towards him. "What happened?" He asked shyly, biting his lips when he saw the incredibly angry face America was wearing.

**_"What happened?" _**The American repeated incredulously.

"Are you that much of a fucking drunkard?" His teeth gritted.

"Yer a fucking molester, a fucking lowlife that has no fucking stability in his goddamn life."

The words cut deep. _Why would his friend say tha__—_

He gasped. He remembered. His plan backfired. Somehow, he lost control again. He had to come clean, Alfred's the most reasonable guy he's met.

"A-America, let me explai—" he was cut short by his own pained scream, he couldn't stand up.

"I don't want to hear it." Alfred trembled, legs steady but his chest heaving and heavy, tears poring down.

"You know. I didn't want to meet you back then..." He confessed his true feelings back in 1845.

"I didn't want to meet anyone who was probably Prussia's old buddy." His legs were now starting to give.

"But I gave it a shot. I thought you'd be a good guy." He pushed his palm across his wet eye.

"I knew you'd turn out as worse of a bastard as him." Matthias could've sworn he felt a tear stream down the same time his heart broke.

"N-nej. Alfred, plea—"

**_"I don't wanna hear it!"_** He ran away, tears turning as hot as magma, burning the carpet floor beneath him. The winds blew hard enough to make the windows crack slightly, the sounds accumulating to a large choir of various tiny breaks.

Matthias was left back in the room, ice already crawling towards his feet, its shrill cracks turning full and slow as it approached. He looked dumbstruck, eyes still wide as tears fell.

His eyes squinted and nose flared. He buried his face behind his knees.

_Why couldn't he stop all of this from happening? Why couldn't it just stop? Just for once? If this didn't happen, he wouldn't have lost his friend._

He choked in his tears. He hasn't met someone like Alfred in a long time, someone he could really talk to and have fun with without the judgement and the formalities.

-_"Min eneste ven."_

_**(A/N:**__ My only friend.__**)**_

* * *

_He was transfixed at mirrors. The first time he saw his face, his hair, his body on a polish silver plate was different than how he looked on the water. Since Svell left, he had lost that privilege. He had missed those days when he could see how much of a mess he made of his face or why his brother kept laughing when he did funny faces._

_Those were simpler times. Now, everything was different._

_He was gonna fly to London today, too early for the sun to rise. There would be too many people hiding for him to be caught using his wings anyway._

_He looked himself at the bathroom mirror, hair damp and skin flushed. The fog from the hot shower lingered on the face of the simple mirror. A large hand, veiny and more weathered than most young men of his age, swiped across it, squeaking as his reflection came to view._

_He gave a bitter smile, a little reluctant, a little scared, too unsure if he'd like what he sees. _

_The lads of his fingers felt through his strong chest, starting to get covered in hair. Before when he was a child, you could just feel skin and ribs with a little bit of pudge and it was smooth, baby smooth, and barely the size of his thigh._

_One hand slid its way to the crook of his neck while the other snaked to hook softly on his thick arm. He never expected to grow again. More than eon and a half of being a white child, wandering the mountain ranges to the prairies, made him think that. _

_With this body, sturdy and trained, not only for show but for combat..._

_With this mind, sharp and complex, wise beyond his years..._

_With this face, angelic yet sinful, perplexing to him since he couldn't see why many found it attractive..._

_Came the price of losing his innocence, his childhood, his mother._

_His skin was once so smooth, so soft to the touch. Now it was rough and uneven with his scars. He couldn't believe that he could get these much. He was like a worn-out toy, played by sadistic bastards who tipped the scales too much and he was weak, allowing them for fear had drained him of his strength, of his will to fight back._

_But there was a new war coming. A world war. He had heard of it for years but this was the only time when his people started to give a damn. He has been worrying about his family for years and with this, his qualms could finally be settled, knowing that he'll be there whenever they got hurt but..._

_He was fighting friends. Sadik, Ludwig, Feli. _

_What if they get hurt? What about the soldiers who were fighting for what they thought was right? Their families? _

_He was fighting...__**him**__...the white-haired German who had defiled and destroyed him like he was nothing but fragile glass._

_He pressed his forehead on the cold glass, balling his fists as he sobbed. Those were things he could never ever take back. This war was going to destroy what little he had left. This war would be the end of his humanity. This would be the end of Alfred._

_"Akicha..."_

_A voice pierced through him. It dinned in his mind, too long has he not heard of that voice. _

_"Akicha..."_

_He turned around, swatting away the thick air that was around him. When he couldn't, he pulled his wings out and fanned within the cramp areas that couldn't hold his entire wingspan._

_Nothing._

_He bit his thumb's nail. He was starting to hear things, he laughed crazily. He stepped back and sat against the wall, sinking slowly,_

_He was becoming insane._

_"I'll be back...please believe me." _

_"YOU NEVER WILL!" He shouted, hiding his face behind his knees until something dropped from above._

_He peeped through one tear-stung eye, making out a vaguely long shape twisted on the floor. He palmed one tear clear of water and almost fell back in his surprise._

_It was a thick string, red and braided, a little muddy and tattered but with that unmistakable totem made of wood, joined by a peculiarly shaped rock._

_He pressed it carefully with his finger, making sure it was real. It was. He could feel the way the thought strings were woven together and the weathered details of the wooden totem._

_He pulled it to his hands greedily, crying to it in joy and in sadness, murmuring his thanks to God, to Jesus for answering his prayers and easing his heart._

_"I-I believe." _


	7. 1918: Rebuild part 1

**_Author's Note:_**

**_Hi, Tailed here, I just want to address that if any chapters aren't working that you report it to me. Really, I've been standing around for days trying to make new chapters only to find out the old ones don't work. PLease, I am begging you,, if you see the chapter not working, please tell me. I don't know what is wrong with this computer all of the sudden. First, I can't use my iPad to post any of my work without screwing up the italics and bolds anymore and now this. what the hell is wrong with my iPad? and now, my laptop seems to always doing the chapter error thing in my laptop._**

* * *

**_1918_**

_"Hier." _Alfred smiled, handing out a warm blanket to an elderly German woman as she sat beside her ill husband, accidentally shot by American soldiers.

Countries didn't care whether the people they were helping were not theirs. All they cared about was helping in general, eons of living had engraved the understanding that small tokens of kindness always went a long way.

The woman fluttered her eyes, not noticing that the American was coming towards her, a little too worried of her husband's condition.

_"D-danke."_ She nodded twitchingly, smiling brightly with tears threatening to burst. It had been very rough for them.

Alfred softened his smiled taking her old hand and patting it as comforting as he could. He slid his hand off and to the clipboard left on the table. He gave a quick scan and sighed thankfully.

Albert Schleigman's wounds weren't serious, luckily it hadn't damaged any major organs just scraping his shoulders. From the looks of things he could be sent out tomorrow though it worried Al if they still had a home to return to.

_"E__r geht in Ordnung zu sein. __E__r braucht nur etwas Ruhe. Halten Sie ihn im Bett f__ü__r ein paar Tage..__"_ He calmed the woman, telling her the things she has been waiting to hear from the doctors who were running about and casting them aside to tend to the surviving soldiers.

**(A/N: **_He's going to be fine. He just needs some rest. Keep him in bed for a few days.__**)**_

_"__Vielen, vielen Dank.__" _She bowed her head gratefully, clutching to her worn scarf with her bony fingers. Her happy tears were suddenly cut as she grew the young man's uniform and the color itself had taken her aback.

_"__Sie sind Amerikaner?__" _She asked calmly, looking more curious than angry.

_"Ja."_ He answered truthfully, ducking his head in and throwing his eyes to the side. He took one glance, taking in the German's blank expression before ducking further and actually stepping a few back.

_"__Sie sind ein guter Mann__." _She smiled, grateful for the small while and the warm blanket.

The American's face lit up, like a child celebrating his first Christmas. His cheeks turning a little rosy, overjoyed, he bowed down the woman as if she were queen.

_"Danke."_ He scratched the back of his head with his goofy smile stuck.

The woman dipped her head once and went back to watching her husband.

Alfred became jovial, walking past the doctors who have given them thumbs-ups and happy waves from the other people in the makeshift hospital. He's working here for days instead of reporting back home ASAP. He couldn't leave knowing that conditions were like this.

He was about to exit the library-turned-infirmary when he was knocked off by a man limping from his left side.

The limping man braced himself on the American, instinctively clinging to the more steady man.

"Are you oka—"

Alfred stopped, seeing that the man clinging to him was no other than—

"P-Prussia?" He felt the air get sucked right out off him.

Gilbert pushed himself off and clumsily fell on the floor when he couldn't get his crutch to steady. His arm was in a cast and his leg was wrapped in bandages, red holes dirtying everything. His head was bandaged, covering one eye and leaving one exhausted eye open and in working order.

"America..." He gasped, shaking also. The more he stared, the more his body started to shake until he was almost convulsing in fear.

"S-sorry..." He managed to squeak, covering his mouth in embarrassment which only made him fall completely on the reeking floor.

Alfred shook his head, subduing his fears for a moment. He extended his arms and silently urged the other to accept.

Gilbert looked and the hand, slowly accepting it with his trembling one. He was pulled up rather quickly but with the earthquake inside him, he couldn't get a word out without croaking sounds that were not even tangible words.

Alfred's inquisitiveness took over, fear pushed all the way to the back burner. This didn't look like the man years ago which wasn't bad but he shouldn't make assumptions. Who knew? This might all be a well-planned trick.

Thinking of nothing else, the German bowed before him, toppling back down to the floor if it wasn't for the quick American who caught him under his arms.

"I'm so sorry...please, could you ever forgive me!?' The white-haired man was crying silently, chest and shoulders spasming as he sniffled his nose and shook his stiffening head.

Alfred's face was of shock and concern, wearing a pondering look as he tried to dissect the truth in those eyes, the eyes that have haunted and preyed him for decades.

"For what?" He asked dryly, much to the surprise of the German.

"Y-you know what I'm talking about—"

"I don't accept apologies unless I know the reason." Flickering ember started from deep in his throat. Then his eyes flashed the same manner as lightning.

Whatever Prussia had crossed, he was no longer certain was human. But then again, even he wasn't completely human and he isn't talking about just the country aspect.

"For making you my whore." It was the only thing that popped in his mind. He couldn't sugarcoat it.

A large fist landed on his nose, effectively breaking it. He gasped, covering his nose and looking fearfully at the victor who still held him by his collar.

Those looked nothing like the eyes he had when he was being torn from the inside. It felt like looking at himself, the fear he had for the Prussian. The begging eyes that only wished to stop were just like what Gilbert had now.

_"You don't have to do this..." _A disembodied voice whispered. It was silvery and genuine, soft like velvet that grazed his darkening soul.

Alfred sighed and let go. Gilbert stumbled back, good thing he was fairly decent with his crutch or he'd be on his ass again.

"If I were being honest..." Alfred began.

"I really don't know how I feel right now." He tossed his eyes down, shaking his head as he contemplated.

"I can never stay mad at anyone...even if they've hurt me so much..." He plastered his hand on his forehead as Gilbert watched, inching forward the best he could.

"I even forgave the one who killed my own mother..." He laughed bitterly. He shot a small look at Gilbert who instantly reassumed to be three feet away from him.

...

"If I could forgive that...then I could forgive you..." He shrugged, crossing his arms and tipping his head to the side.

A full-blown smile stretched across the other's face but—

"I just need more time to trust you and forcing yerself will _never_ work, okay?" He wagged his finger at him.

"_J-Ja_...sure..." The other scrambled to stand up till Al extended his hand one more.

"A small handshake's a start." He smiled reluctantly as he took the German's hand.

"Yes! Yes it is!" The German seemed overjoyed, incessantly shaking his hand until he saw the uncomfortable look in the taller man's eyes.

He cleared his throat and stood still on his one good leg. "S-see you around then?"

"Yeah..." Al turned to his back and started to walk towards the exit.

"And fix that nose, will you?" He said loudly, be brought one hand up as he gestured.

_"Uh-huh," _The man nodded, sighing blissfully. He was partially forgiven...which made him really happy.

Wait, what did he just say?

"Oh shit!" He turned frantic and scurried to find someone to fix his awesome nose.

* * *

"M-mr. Denmark!" Ludwig, limping and barely dressed, looked surprised as his neighbor parked a jeep on the busy, solemn city square covered in snow.

"W-what are you doing here?"

"I brought some food for the people." He looked behind them, seeing the hunger in their faces. The Dane felt the dark presence stuck in the air. The war was over and they lost and that seldom settled well to the losing countries. It made their lives riskier for the time being. With tension high, who knows what their bosses might do to them. Sure as hell he didn't when he lost.

Under normal circumstances, Ludwig could make a fuss and try his best to turn down such help, thinking that they were being forced to and burdened. But with his people like this, all he could say was—

_"Danke." _He gave a royal bow, taking exactly three seconds before standing up straight with a grateful, tear-wetted smile.

"Please send my best wishes to the King."

The Dane gave a small nod in acknowledgement. He shouldn't tell them that this was all from his money and not the Danish parliament. **_Or maybe he should_**, a dark thought surfaced. A little pride was all good, he could probably ask favors from Ludwig...and he wouldn't have the power to say no.

"Ja and ya can thank me as well, ya know, I'm the one who brought ya stuff." He chided, hands incessantly rubbing together.

**_Yes...you are doing well, Denmark..._**

"J-Ja—" The German responded reflexively, he wasn't sure why he was agreeing.

"Thanks to you too—"

Three more trucks pulled up. Matthias' blank eyes stared, barely even himself when he said—

"I would like it if any of yer abled officers could help distribute the packages evenly." His smile stretched broader.

"Of course." He bowed curtly and hollered his men to help him with the crates of fruit and bread and trays of danishes and sandwiches. He was getting very confused.

The German returned, slightly curious as to why Matthias decided to help them recover and from the looks of the jeeps, they looked nothing like what the royals would dispatch.

"I am very sorry if I am being very insensitive to ya but—" the Dane bit his bottom lip, just for the sake of authenticity.

"Have you talked to America at all since...ya know..." He cleared his throat.

"Ya lost?" His eyes were squinting, hinting that he was _very, very_ sorry but sure didn't feel like it from where the German was standing.

"No worries." The German smiled, waving his hands in front of him just to clear the air. Ludwig picks up stuff quickly but seldom points out small quirks that meant a whole lot, like this one. Something was telling him that the old nation had plans with his friend and he doesn't want that to happen. Still he had to act dumb.

"I'm not in any qualms with Alfred. He's been a good friend before, during, and after the war." He answered truthfully.

The statement made the other very skeptical and confused. Was he being played with or something?

"Um...I see that you two aren't in the best terms now." The younger man noticed, shooting a concerned look. He needed just a small hint.

"Surprised is all." He shook his head in reply. Frankly, he didn't understand the notion one bit. Nations were born disloyal. They were all snakes who'll betray one another on command

Their voices and opinions weren't supposed to matter. What did America think he was, special?

_There it is, _Ludwig gleamed. There was something...

"He is checking around the infirmaries...if you want to talk to him." Ludwig took a small kick forward, arms crossed and watching as his men distributed the food to the grateful public.

"He's still here?" Matthias shot a surprised and incredulous look at him.

The German nodded, sighing deeply. "I told you, he is a good friend even after the war. He stayed behind and he is a little bit of a doctor so—"

"Where is he?"

"I don't know." The younger replied honestly. "You better check the church though, he likes to attend a mass around this hour." He hollered as the Dane trotted off to the distance.

Ludwig noted as his soldiers distributed the food to check up on Alfred later. He didn't trust Matthias for reasons he couldn't say for himself.

There was something foreign stirring inside Matthias. He couldn't understand it, there was irritation that sprouted from him whenever he even thought of him, nowadays.

He wants to get close to him. He wants to talk to him, laugh with him, throw an arm around his shoulder as they talked or drank. But he also wanted to do nothing but hurt him and when he tells him it's wrong and he had to stop...

**_It's the right thing..._**

**_"To do..." _**A dark, shallow croak escaped his lips that were curling into a conceited smile. A shadow darted inside his eyes, getting cloudy as he sucked the wondrously depressing, oppressing scene of poor people, hungry and cold.

_"Mr. Viking!" _A familiar voice sent shivers down his spine. His eyes raised from the cold concrete sidewalk and to the farthest part of it, stretching to the dull white light in the end.

_"Hvad?" _He squinted one eye, trying to see the voice's owner more clearly. He paced forward, rather curious, he had this feeling that it was being directed towards him.

The small figure turned to his back and ran past the lines of sick and hungry people. Under normal circumstances, Matthias would be itching to help the—

**_Denmark, don't be a stubborn pet..._**

He stopped for a split second, a migraine shooting through him like a sword. His run turned to a stiff and staggering walk until he was leaning on the building wall on his left. His farthest hand and nearest shoulder rested on the brick wall as he recuperated. He opened his eyes, breath heavy but with a wicked grin crawling as he fought to laugh.

—_itching _to laugh in front of their faces was what he meant, but the voice was far too familiar drop and forget.

He steadied himself, hand pushing against the wall for support. He was in an alley, the stray light of the sun, cutting a straight line just above his head as he stayed in the shadow of the black brick wall in front of him, frosted over.

_"Svell." _The voice began again from behind him, this time making him jump in surprise. He turned around his heels and scrambled back only to get cornered by the wall.

"I'm very sorry but that isn't my name..." He chided in an withheld, irritated melody.

He cast his look down, hearing the small inquisitive sounds that greeted him.

It was a small boy. He was wearing a simple tunic, matching pants, fur boots, and a red cap. His blue eyes were big and glistening like the ocean in the warm morning. He was glowing in a whitish gold halo and he could feel something tug him back and away from him.

He felt fear consume him or at least something was telling him to be fearful. He pressed his hands on the wall, still facing the boy who came closer and closer.

"Stay back!" He warned like the trapped and defenseless man he was at the moment.

**_End him._**

What? He wasn't gonna end a chi—

**_End. Him. Now._**

_"Ja." _He droned, dropping to his knees and slowly bringing his hand to the boy's throat.

The boy didn't resist, smiling and holding his large digits meant to end him.

His smirk widened sickeningly, black crawling under his eyes for a second like Nessie.

"Good night, Kid." He bid his farewell and _squeez_—

The child dissolved into nothing but golden dust, it misted around like a fog but it felt different, it felt like he was in a room of lit candles, hot, uncomfortably so. He tried to sprint away but he was pinned back by the swirling enigma.

He looked at how each particle flickered like the stray flicks of a bonfire. He was transfixed at the sudden cool breeze that replaced the melting sensation, numbing him slowly starting from his feet.

He sat back down, resting his back against the wall as a relaxed smile matched his drooping, glazed eyes. He felt free, he hasn't felt that in such a long time. He felt light, like he could fly and by the way the numbness has reached his groin, it was like he was seating on nothing.

The cloud slowly turned to a solid shape as if it was poured in an invisible container. Bright blue eyes appeared before him and then the child materialized soon after, smiling like he did before.

Two of his small hands cupped either side of his handsome face. Their noggins pressed against each other as the unresisting, mind-blank Dane laughed just for the shit of it.

_"Do you remember?"_ The child whispered, soft and airy like how he was feeling now. Strands of orange-gold hair snuck out the boy's cap.

_"Hvad?"_

His smile vanished as he suddenly felt pain, a burning sensation that had engulfed his body faster than what was humanly possible. His veins popped and his eyes glowed blue as he roared, monstrously with a bellowing boom. Body started to go cold and icy, churning cold to fight the pain but now he could feel freezer-burn combine with the agonizing hellfire.

He kicked and yelled, trying to move his body and kill the child he kept on smiling, hands firmly pressed on his temples. It was like he was drilling through them with skewers, raking out his brain.

His teeth turned sharp and nose turned longer, more lupine, claws sprouted and spires of ice pierced along his back and his head.

The child was forcing his neck back. He tried to lock his neck in place, fighting the pain and the boy but—

_SNAP!_

He forced out one last breath, strangled and dire, slowly reverting back to his human form. His spires shriveled back under his skin, teeth becoming small and normal and his brilliant, ice-patterned skin _de-latticed _like a tapestry being unraveled to show his pale yet warm, living skin.

His brilliant eyes, encrusted with glistening specks of diamond an a whole crystal-like star sprouting in the middle, slowly turned grey, dull and blank, life escaping him.

_Someone had pulled his plug._

His head dropped to his chest with his eyes dropping close. He stayed there, lying dead, not even a small rise and fall of his broad chest.

One thick trail of blood flowed down his nose and to his black coat.

The mysterious apparition left without so much a trace. Well maybe just one, a small trinket, a little something _Svell _forgot along the way.

In his hand was a large hoop, tightly woven inside it was a starburst made with brown-white twine-like string and dangling from it were various stone beads and three long feathers that were particularly brown in color, sheeting gold as it fluttered.

_"You'll remember..." _A small giggle echoed as wind grazed the dead man's cheek tenderly.

* * *

_"So...um...God..."_

America trembled as he knelt and cupped his hands together in front of the cross. Luckily the church wasn't too damaged, just a few cracks in the ceiling and in the wall behind the cross. The church was filled with soldiers being nursed by nuns and priests and brothers and even small altar boys.

He just had so many things he had to get off of his chest and he has been coming here like twice a day, partly to check up the soldiers and to clear his mind.

_"I basically forgave the man who ruined my ass and my mind and I feel like I'm a crazy dipsh__—__" _

_throat-clear. _

_"Sorry." _He apologized wholeheartedly, reciting Holy Mary thrice before proceeding. He had a religious tick, it calmed him down and he always felt lighter. Francis rubbed off on him in those terms more than on his twin.

_"I'm scared..." _He looked up, eyes soft and very unsure.

_"Should I trust him?"_ Thinking of it just sent chills along his spine.

_"Is it the right time to?"_

_"I mean, he did look sorry__—__"_

He closed his eyes and knocked his knuckle hard on his forehead. He was physically trying to stop himself from even thinking about his eyes. He has fallen for than same trick time after time, he'd tell him that he was sorry, he'd drug him and he'd fuck him again. He should stop being so gullible. It's not going to stop if he keeps on being soft.

_"Forgive me..." _He tensed, tears silently building up behind his eyelids. His chest started to hiccup up and down and his nose turned runny and red.

_"I really can't." _He whispered sadly, feeling all the guilt in the world enter his already heavy heart.

_"And what about Denmark?" _His former best friend suddenly crossed his mind.

_"What do I do about him?"_

It was strange but back then, halfway out the building, he couldn't stop crying and it wasn't his anger...he actually had second thoughts of leaving. He, until now, wanted to hear what he had to say. He was drunk after all and he had lost a lot, being a little unreasonable and sexually frustrated made sense. _Was he making an excuse for him? _No. Impossible.

Then again, he never left his brother even if he was raking his claws deep in him for quite a long period of time and he never fought Prussia who kept on raping him. And he always blamed himself for something.

_"Am I a masochist or something?" _His face contorted sourly. He hated the idea but it did feel like he was going somewhere with this.

_Try again..._

"Who the?" Alfred looked around him, slightly alarming the people around him, staring for a while before slowly prying their eyes away. He sighed, _better go with it._

_"Am...I..." _He stroked his chin. _"...too nice?"_

_Nice try..._

"At least I tried, right?" He shot back out loud, feeling a little better even though he didn't fully understand what was happening. _Ce la vie, oui?_

Alfred shook his head slowly, carding his fingers through his hair. He already knew the answer. He was just compelled to talk to the disembodied voice...because he was lonely...and—

"I'm too afraid to be alone..." A long sigh was pulled out of him, seating back to the wooden chair as the air escaped him till he was a little light-headed.

He better stop thinking about it.

Head tossed back, his face was illuminated by the light passing through the simple stained glass. Small yet persistent snowflakes casting simple shadows behind the glass.

He liked the feeling of it, reminded him of the days Mom and nice old shaman folk would help him hone his powers, from making small flickers to walls of fire, a light drizzle to torrential rain, a small jolt to a sky of lightning, a breeze to a twister. All required perfect imagery, translating what I had in mind accurately with unimaginable focus. Nowadays, it's fairly easy, a little more effort when it came to the grey areas.

But what he loved most was when they show him the powers of light. Like making a small ball of light, enough to light a forest, enough to warm everybody. And in instances, make shows across the night sky with moving figures, grazing the ground and the people in a magical parade of glowing colors, all joyously orchestrated by him, letting his imagination run free. _That's the secret,_ his mother would tell him. The secret to that part of him was joy, hope, compassion, and righteousness. He had to _feel_ for his power, not simply _think_. He was warned the otherwise would bring nothing but harm for the vile act could set forth his other powers to stir out of balance. Nothing good comes out of selfishness, it only brings out darkness but probably the good thing about the dark was that—

"Light shines its brightest in the dark." He muttered, anglicizing his mom's favorite motto in the dead of morning-less winter.

He cracked one eye open, pools of bright purple, green, pink, and orange playing around his vast blue eye. A smile crawled, content and relieved. It was just a matter of time that he'd come around and forgive but he never liked to forget. Whether it was a huge secret from his brother to a small thing an acquaintance might've muttered in front of him. In this case, he thinks that remembering is the key to avoid mistakes and, more importantly, relishing how much better he is now than before.

He sat back up with vigor, feet kicking slightly. He made a cross sign. _Again, Catholic Francis rubbed off on him more._ He stood up, stretching his back and his arms, moaning as he stretched before dropping his arms.

"Break's over." He chided, burying his hands in his jacket and heading out to another infirmary just a couple of blocks from here.

He took one small look at the bracelet Svell gave him and a long look at the cross of the church. He brought two fingers up his head, wagging a little salute before turning to face the door way.

"Same time tomorrow?" He looked up the stained glass window, a white dove breaking out of a holy burst of color, and left with a smile.


	8. 1918: Rebuild part 2

_**Author's Note:**_

_**On an added note, please remember to tell me if you see any chapters missing. ALSO, CHAP 5 is up and I am begging anybody interested in this story to check that out. It's Denmark and America's first time meeting again, please.**_

* * *

"Hey...wake up."

Matthias groaned, rolling to his side to let the soft grass tickle his freckled cheek.

A kick to the stomach and he wheezed, eyes still closed as he was still too lazy to confront whoever kicked him. Whoever it was his voice sounded sexy.

**_"Sexy?!"_** The man growled. "Ya are a self-obsessed prick! I cannot fucking believe that yer the shitty person _I've_ become."

Wait, what?

He read his thoughts? What did he mean by he's the person he's become?

He turned on his back again, elbows propped and eyes open.

"Holy Shit!" He curse, covering his mouth.

"That's another shitty thing about ya! I don't fucking use those kind of curses, have ya no respect for God?"

The man in front him...was himself.

And he wasn't his young self. It was him** him**. He was around his mid twenties. Sharply . Muscular. Handsome as hell.

A foot was pressed against his forehead.

His other self ticked as he shook his head slowly, sounding disappointed and shit.

"A little humility please?" He asked, pushing his foot further until his arrogant side was lying on the grass.

Denmark blinked a few, face stretched in childish aloofness. A curt sigh above snapped him out of it. Seating up with his hand propped behind him, one leg bent up with his other arm stiffly resting on the knee, he looked at the cross_ **him**_right in front of him.

"God, yer dense." He groaned, incessantly scratching his head and pressing his palm against the side of his head.

"Do ya feel anything—" He removed his right glove and he crawled closer and closer to his other half. The other remind naive, leaning back to accommodate the approaching him who was removing his tie.

"W-what're ya doing?" He was sweating as he slowly undid the first three buttons of his red shirt.

"Do ya still feel anything..." The identical right hand rested on his chest. The dumbfounded one looked up, clashing with eyes that gleamed from a strong backlight behind the beautiful azure crystals that faded to cold, bluish white in the middle where a crystal snowflake sprung out in all directions within them.

He looked down and saw that his other half's skin turned a familiar iridescent white small blue ice cracks crawling across his skin and ticking softly as he moved.

"Here?" He finally finished. The other gazed down to his chest, seeing nothing but an empty hole for a heart.

**_What the fuck!?_**

"W-what about ya!?" He panicked and placed his hand on the cold-looking chest. He stopped, looking dumbstruck, it was warm and alive, beating loudly with his breaths.

Why wasn't he cold as ice? Why weren't they one person? Why couldn't he feel this way again?

The deep pondering halted, short attention span and all. He found himself suddenly transfixed at the hard roundness of the considerable, hairy mound. Wow. Was it wrong that he was getting horny because this?

"It is." The other said crossly, though hand still inside the deep, dark hole in his chest.

"I don't see ya wanting to pull away anytime soon." The arrogant Dane grinned, testing with firmer squeezes with no success.

"At least yer still charming." The humbler Dane laughed before plunging his hand deeper into the never-ending hole.

When his forearm was in, he felt pain.

_Crushing. Tugging. Stretching._

_"F-fuck."_ He groaned, biting his lips hard. His breath was caught between his throat, lumping hard from it.

"That's the darkness that's eating ya." The arm was pulled out, soaked in fizzling tar. He wagged his hand, flicking the drops of the goop around the flowery beds that died immediately, withering and shriveling into a black, curled up, string that crumbled to ash.

It turned quiet. He was scared straight seeing the other creep closer and closer, eyes unwavering and intense. He fell on his back again. His other half had his knees and hands on either of his sides. He felt pain instead of a fast heartbeat. Each time he felt his nerves, he felt something dagger out of him.

"We must become one again." He whispered hoarsely. The other shivered, closing his eyes. This was definitely turning him on. It was wrong as fuck but he wanted this.

He felt a cold-hot breath graze his neck followed by a soft nibble. His neck became frosted with micro needles if ice and thin sheets of the transparent blue crystals. But then, he still felt like he should shed all of his clothes, already sweating and panting. He held his gasp, hands gripping hard around his other half's strong arms.

"H-how?" He questioned, coming out a little whiny as the one who was just cross a moment was attacking his neck ferociously. He didn't get it at all but he wasn't complaining, he knew what places turned him on.

He arched his back, wrapping his legs around his...own—very confusing—waist. Firm hands started to rub soft circles around his underarms. Slow and a little hard, driving him wild. Only he knows that about him. His arms were tossed to make his armpits more vulnerable. An open-mouthed kiss massage his left one through the cloth while the other hand continued to caress his right, oh so slowly with a blunt force that only made him moan louder. He never felt comfortable to submit to anyone but hey he was submitting to himself—again, it felt a very strange taste in his mouth.

"With this." The other him dove in for a fierce kiss, making him shudder in pure heat. The heat started to pool and spread inside him. He pulled himself closer, seeking more of the thrilling sensation that was to impossible to be real but that small fact didn't matter. One more needy whine and then—

_A heart beat_

Lips unlocked, he watched as the other spat out black oil, grinning triumphantly down at him. His flashy white teeth tainted with black.

He felt flustered. He felt used. He felt ashamed. But not one thing mattered anymore when another loud thump flooded his ears, closed his throat, and blurred his eyes.

His breath turned more ragged, feeling himself sinking down the earth as he tried to breath.

"Just enjoy the ride." His other half whispered.

And then, globs of white tainted his vision, expanding and filling his vision acceleratingly.

_Another large thump and white enveloped him._

* * *

Alfred walked out of the church, it was a little snowy now, good thing he had a thick jacket with him. He glanced at the sky, getting a little dark. Night was coming, so that meant he had to find a new place to stay. The big mistake was that he didn't have enough money with him to pay for a cheap hotel room for a month.

Where was gonna get food too? He had to stop falling in line the buffets because they need all the food they can get. He could fly to France, it was a little close and Francis would definitely let him stay, he'd tell him to stay with him forever. Francis really loves all of his _children, _even if there were many disputes between their people, disputes between them personally was virtually unheard of.

He could go to Ludwig, they've been chatting as if nothing happened right after the official end of the war and he has _forgiven _Gilbert but would he really want to stay in the house of his former rapist? _Not really. _

He dug his hands deep inside his coat pockets. He glanced at the people who were huddling back to the shelters as thick, hot air carried the smell of warm food. _Good, _everyone was slowly moving forward from this. His attention was caught by his German friend who was moving around distributing food, his face was soft and all smiles with his people just then his eyes met his.

Ludwig grinned, smugly tilting his head to the side and bringing his thumb up. Alfred shook his head Ashe giggled, it was fun to see the German's looser side. He grinned back and gave a curt salute, only going on his way when his friend returned a small salute as well.

The sky actually darkened, dusk approaching. Part of the sky was this starry, mauvy blanket that gradiently turned to a warm orange and yellow. If he didn't know better, it was like the sun was rising for the second time. _Awesome._

_Alright. Back to business. Find a place to stay, to eat. _

_Impossible,_ he thought. Who would want to trust an American, let alone let him live under the same roof. Should he try at least? There was bound to be someo—

He felt a strange presence, a shuddering tingle down his spine. It was strong but not dark. It was a little oppressing though. He opened his senses, eyes turning more slanted and yellow and his nostrils naturally flaring as his breathing increased to large warm puffs. He took in the scent above him, nostrils closing visibly.

He felt a faint and familiar heartbeat like probably ten blocks away. Having heightened senses was awesome. What possessed him to sense it so strongly and made him able to filter it out, out of all the people in the city, he doesn't know but he didn't care. All he knew was he had to find it.

He started to run, letting his visage turn back to normal. He felt it as very urgent and he didn't know why. Whatever he felt, he was being drawn to it.

A small glowing ball of light, peeped from behind a cold, black wall. Small hands sprouted from the ball and held on to the very edge as his blue eyes peeked and his feet on its toes to better his field of vision. Leaning too much, he fell to the pile of snow, red cap falling off and beautiful golden locks revealed.

"Hey little glowing guy." A wiry voice decided to woo him with shrill, _be-endeared _baby talk. The boy pushed himself up and dusted himself off. He placed his cap back on with dignity and poise.

"_Aw!_ Isn't just freaking cute!" The child looked behind him, seeing a white-haired man in a crutch and a broken nose. He scoffed the red-keyed geezer who felt a mix of humiliation and annoyance and hurt.

"_You think uncy Gilly's bad?" _The German ceased not in his attempt to be cute, puffing his cheeks and puckering his lips. He crouched down, determined to befriend him.

The boy with the red cap bonked the man's nose and pulled his tongue out mockingly at the man before running away as fast as he could, laughing happily as the German cursed in pain. He looked back at the boy who stopped just at the crook of the sidewalk. He looked back at him, smiling. It was like the anger inside him disappeared and he was left laughing at himself.

Then it dawned him that the child look familiar. Almost like—

_"AMERICA!?" _He shouted, heard all over the streets, but when he looked again, the child was gone.

"**_Verr_****_äter!" _**An old man yelled, just then the people started to crowd towards him, angry with weapons, thinking that he was a traitor.

_"__Schei__ße!"_ He cursed, getting on his crutch and limping his way to freedom.

"Bruder?" Ludwig was walking on the opposite direction as his brother frantically passed him in the speed of...a not-so-fast man in crutches.

"No time. See you back home." He almost lost his balance when he waved his farewell but he caught himself.

Ludwig watched in curiously as the mob passed, whistling with a smirk as he headed back to the path he was taking with crates of potatoes stacked in his burly arms. It's fun to see _Bruder _exercise, probably regrets not jogging with him before all this.

* * *

He coughed out puffs of cold air, a shrill sound coming out with his deep coughs as strings of glowing blue shot out like flat fireworks and sparks.

'_How long was I out?' _He jerkily tossed his head back to the wall as more of the fizzling blue energy drew out of him and on his clothes, the floor, the walls. All becoming frosted over blue ice, encrusted with beautiful yet random patterns, and white compact snow.

Eyes still closed, he could tell that the sun was setting. He settled in his position for a while with the back of his hand over his eyes and another clutching his aching stomach, letting the cough die down.

Glowing cracks slowly ticked as they move along his skin, pulsing—

_What? _There's a pulse? His hands slowly made their way to his chest anxiously. His eyes scrunched closed, he held his hands where his heart was and then—

_A pulse._

His cold eyes flew open and hands clasped around his mouth to hold his loud gasp. There was a pulse...and it didn't hurt...and he was alive again...and who the hell was that kid—

_Oh Fuck._

He lunged forward, going on all fours as he vomited. It was coming out like a fountain, a fountain mixed with beer, crumbs of bread, and meat. He coughed loudly, wheezing as he felt something solid starting to pass his throat. He purged forward, starting to puke entrails and broken bones. His eye started to swell with tears, guts clenching to push everything out in his system and something snagged in his throat. He choked and wheezed, beating his back hard to get it out.

_A strangled noise. _

A small black ball shot out as he fell back to the wall, exhausted and scared for his life. He panted excessively and rightfully so, what kind of disgusting things were in his stomach? He started to whimper like a puppy, trying to alleviate the pain from within him. The snow started to fall harder and the winds started to pick up, ice, coating every inch of the alley in mere seconds.

That is when he felt a wet nose press against his cheek. Then there came a hot puff of moist air against his forehead. He creaked one eye open, slightly stiff from the frozen tears he was casting.

There were five huge wolves in front of him. Eyes the same color as his. Their translucent bodies were made out of blue energy, swerving and moving like a strong fire, that had small dots playing and whirling inside them like flurries in a snow globe.

One of them, the one with a white eye, pressed its mane comfortingly along the side of his face, whimpering concernedly. Matthias' erratic breaths slowly deescalated, building the courage to pet along its mighty mane when—

_Gasp._

A white snowflake dilated in his eyes, flashing strongly. A wave flowed through him, leaving more cracks on his skin in his wake and faint wisps along the expanse of his body. Light started to come from within him, making the way his blood pulsed visible with the strong white light emanating from within. The cracks started to sprout the arms, shoulders, chest, and temples with white crust of ice _carved_ with vague yet beautiful patterns.

The wolves started to huddle closer as he hissed, it was like stretching far too much for comfort. Then a warm cloud jolted the side of his head, the another then—

_I remember everything_

He looked back at the wolves, finally starting to remember. A cautious pet was followed by a full on headlock on the dog to his left. He laughed happily as the spirit tried to wrestle out of his hold, trying to nibble him playfully in the process. The others whined, going up on both hind legs as they wagged their tails and nip to get his attention.

"Alright...alright..." He slowly pushed them off. The Dane didn't want to lose any more energy. His skin was flushed of all it's light and his eyes followed soon after one blink. His smile was tired, only managing to give them a soft ruffle on the head.

The dogs whimpered again, cuddling. He could understand them, telling him that they've missed him so much. _Ja, _it was good to have them back. _It was good to have all his memories back too._

_"Undsklyd." _He apologized, meeting his wolves presses. "I didn't want Spain to hurt any of ya." He laughed tiredly.

They pressed at him again, cornering him from all sides. They weren't cold at all. In fact, they were warmest things he knew.

It was great to feel whole again, to feel something beating inside him, something coursing through him, something that made him know that he was alive. And with that came the memories that made everything worthwhile. He could feel all of them coming back to him.

_These five nut-heads helped him with his first steps and his first words were all in wolf. The story of him learning Old Norse was a mystery on its own. Then in an amazing twist, he learned how to use a knife, a sword, and a bow and arrow._

Matthias let his friends do what they pleased, licking him which were just swipes of cold air, enough to freeze his clothes but not him.

_He remembered how much he has done for his brothers. There were days he thought he was gonna break but seeing them need him meant so much more to him than anything else. They were his life. They were the reason he gladly walked on fire, get beat up, be degraded to nothing but a common pack animal. His main goal in life was to keep them safe and happy. Nothing brought more joy to him than the smile on their faces, nothing brought more sorrow than their frowns. _

Thinking about them was definitely something he found he regretted. All it made him realize was how much he had lost. They weren't with him anymore and they won't ever come back to him, even just for small talk, a little update in their lives. He really messed up, he couldn't believe that centuries of his love, the painstaking hours he devoted to them, were all destroyed in a matter of days as his mind was wrapped in a frenzy of violence, sadism, and rage.

Denmark couldn't force his smile anymore, dropping a frown as he tried to push himself up. He used the wall behind him to press his weight on his legs, he still felt as though the world was stirring.

It was then he noticed that he was holding something. The feeling of the tightly woven string and the way it springs a little when crushed were so familiar to him, why wouldn't it be? He would fondle it constantly before.

He tensed, slightly grating himself down to about a half crouch.

'_How the hell would it end up in my hand? Must be something else__—" _

He looked down, falling back down hard on the floor. He groaned again, rubbing his backside to ease the pain.

He threw his sit back to the object and this time all he felt was amazement. If he hasn't been wearing this for centuries—he made the loop sway as it dangled on its rope—how was with him now? How would _Akicha's_ dream catcher be with him?

_Woah! Woah! Woah...woah._ He made sure he had his head on straight before even thinking of what was next. _Akicha was the kid he saw moments ago, the one who snapped his neck__—_

A pulse of gold light came from the corner of his eye. He looked before him, seeing something coming towards him from the opening of the alley. He covered his eyes protectively as the the strong light glared.

He looked hard on the _UGO (Unidentified Glowing Object). _As the light diffused, he was left stunned, jaw slacked. It just couldn't be, then again it could be his imagination or a spirit or—

_"Akicha?" _He asked the glowing boy before him. He thought he'd seen everything by now. Guess he was wrong.

_A nod. A giggle. A cute head tilt. _As he approached the man, the wolves dispersed respectfully. Each step melted the snow and instead replaced them with plates of light that illuminated the dark cornering walls. The dark ball of tar he spat out moments ago started to fizzle and purge until it melted and burned to nothing, not even heavenly gold refracted from the fractals and ripples of ice behind them, mixing with blues and purple rays.

_"Remember now?" _Akicha teased, resting in the space between Matthias' legs. He waited for his reply, smiling as if they had only saw each other yesterday.

Arms were trembling as they reached to hug him. The kid couldn't wait and leapt for him, hugging him around his neck. The glare intensified but the Dane felt himself laugh instead, returning the hug in full.

_"Ja, I do." _He started to hiccup, rubbing his chin as he shook his head. He was crying, _ja, _why wouldn't he? If he didn't show up, he didn't know what the voice would've made him do.

_The Voice. _Was it still in him? What if it made him do horrible things again? He can't have that,he just can't.

_"It's all over. I promise." _Akicha crossed his heart and raised his hand, taking an oath. He sensed something, making him look behind him and ran towards it.

"Wait, Kid! W-we still have a lot to talk about!" Denmark ran after him, actually it was more of limping, discovering that his feet were very unsteady. He pressed his dream catcher against his stomach, applying pressure to the hurting organ.

He made it out of the alley, a hand landing on the corner of a building, frosting it over as he held his pain at bay.

"Ki—"

He stopped, seeing the person he never expected to see again. Of course, he was gonna think that. Matthias hurt him so _so **so **_badly, even he couldn't forgive himself. He just wanted to disappear like right now.

_"A-America?"_

America stopped dead in his tracks, looking surprised as well. He was wearing a thick coat over a black undershirt and military pants with tan combat boots. He took slower steps forward, cautious.

Denmark blushed, looking away. He was trying to control himself, the voice might make him do something. He would start beating himself up before he would let anything happen to the American.

He groaned in pain, falling to his knees. Maybe he pushed himself too hard, he just _woke up. _He was still a little stiff and with how he was writhing, he felt like he was being torn apart.

"A-are you alright?" Alfred knelt beside him, an unsure hand resting on his back.

"F-fine, just leave me here. I'll m-make it." Matthias forced a smile, actually trying to push the hand away if it wasn't so hard to do so. _Just stay away, stay away, stay away. _He knew he couldn't live with himself of he hurt one more person he held dear.

_Held dear?_ That's kinda unexpected. Well, it didn't leave a bad taste in his mouth.

"No." The Dane looked up, the other man painted with a red face, looking in much pain as he was in. It was like he was forcing himself to trust him. _He didn't have to do this, he'd understand if Alfred wanted nothing to do with him. _He had to stay away from him.

"Alfred, ya don't understand—"

"I'm not leaving you here." Strong sapphires clashed with his azure shades. A firm hand held his wrist.

The world seemed to stop for both of them. Denmark just stared at him, feeling lost in those beautiful blue eyes. _Stop. Leave. _But he couldn't find the strength to say that to America. He wanted him this close to him, maybe even more. _This is only the darkness talking, _he reasoned but still his body wasn't moving. _Oh no, _the voice must've already taken over him. He had to ru—

_A heartbeat._

A flood of warmth took over him. He couldn't hear the voice. Was he doing this on his own then? _He was,_ his eyes widened even more, throwing his eyes down to his feet as the strange emotion made him feel all sticky and gross. Matthias was starting to become torn between looking at Alfred and not looking at him. Was this what having a heart again felt like? He tried to cross-reference this feeling with all the memories he could remember but he knew not one would match. How could he feel a new kind of emotion, _what the hell?_

America could feel his friend uncomfortable. Was he the one making him act this way? Was he ashamed of being so vulnerable? Alfred didn't like that idea. He'd never judge anyone, _especially him, _intentionally. He'd never hurt him. His heart was pounding out of his chest, yelling him something that was like in a language he doesn't know, which confused him. Literally speaking, he knew almost every language spoken. _Anyway, _all he knew was that he wasn't gonna leave Matthias.

"Come on, I'll get you to one of the hospitals." Matthias' arm was pulled over his friend's shoulder and another hand was clutched firmly around his hip—_another wave of heat passed through him_. Alfred silently encouraging him to walk, though it didn't seem that his friend was finding him heavy at all. He felt lighter than air as he continued to stare as the American dragged him along.

His heart started to feel heavy, remembering what he had done to him before. But now, feeling liberated from his invisible shackles, he apologized.

"I'm very sorry for what I...did to you...and almost did to you before." He tamed his coarse voice, hoping to sound sincere enough.

Alfred gave him his sweet smile, _another wave,_ "I'm sorry for beating you up."

..

"Y-ya shouldn't defend me." Matthias blushed, looking down on his wobbly feet as they staggered.

"Alright." America chuckled. "Yer a huge bastard for almost raping me and I am appalled by how perverse you are." He quipped.

"Ya didn't have to be that harsh!" Denmark sulked, a little annoyed but he did appreciate the honesty.

America chuckled, giving him a slight nudge as they walked aimlessly. He had forgotten about the hospital by now. He was more focused on what this stirring feeling inside him was, though he kept his exterior from giving out any hints of his deep pondering. It was like he was afraid but he knew that he didn't want to stop being this close to him and then thoughts of being even closer to him started to take hold.

A throat-clear brought him back to reality. He looked at his Danish friend who blushed angrily and bashfully.

"I'm very glad ya aren't mad at me." He admitted, making him flustered. He could never stay mad at anyone but deep inside him, he knew that he couldn't resist Matthias even more. His ears started to hurt from the constant pulses but instead of fixing that, he rubbed the others hips as he laughed.

"We're best friends." He grinned. "Can never stay mad at you."

"J-Ja, we are." The other agreed, chuckling a few before they went silent and just enjoyed each other's warm and welcomed presence. The Dane hid his gift in his pocket inconspicuously, glancing back at Alfred when he wasn't looking and who was doing the same to him.

_'Am I in love?'_

The thought sounded so wrong...but felt so right.


	9. announcement

_**A/N:**_

_**Now this is not a hiatus. It's just that this college will really exhaust me and I know it. I'll be writing in the sidelines, stacking up the stories and releasing them gradually when I finally have the free time.**_

_**The DenAme trilogy will also experience the same since the third and final part is just beginning to take form. I hope not one person would unfollow or unfavorite because I promise that I'll do my best to write great stores while in college. HOWEVER, I would like to point out that COLLEGE is my main priority and I hope you understand that.**_

_**Expect the next WSRM chapter on August/September/October as well as the next Randomness. The new randomness title: 'Random-mania' will be scheduled by November or October and a RusCan fic will hopefully churn out around January/February (can change since I don't know where to begin) and expect one or two of my pairings and their origin stories around summer (Philippine Summer, like April/May)**_

_**please do not hate me at the mean time I want you all to remember that you can drop asks for Characters since 1/3 of Random-mania IS QnA.**_

_**Thanks, hope to see you all, **_

_**Tailed.**_


End file.
